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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
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http://www.archive.org/details/personallyconduc01stoc 



PERSONALLY CONDUCTED 



PERS 




CONDUCTED 



BY 



Frank R. Stockton 

AUTHOR OF "rudder GRANGE," "THE LADY OR THE TIGER?" ETC 



ILLUSTRATED BY 

JOSEPH PENNELL, ALFRED PARSONS. AND OTHERS 



NEW YORK : 

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS. 
1890 

oui»r 



UHJwpt. I 



Ji 






Copyright, 1889, by 
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, 



By xtmaalM 

JAN 3 1907 



Press of J. J. Little & Co. 
Astor Place, New York. 



CONTENTS. 

I. TJje Romans, but not Rome, Page ^ 

II. The City of the Bended Knee, " 20 

III. Little Pisa and Great Rome, " 59 

IV. Great Rome Again, " 59 

V. Around the Bay of Naples, " 81 

VI. In Florence and Venice, "' 100 

VII. A Mountain Top, and How we Get There, " iig 

VIII. Queen Paris, "138 

IX. King London, "1^8 

X. In English Country, '' 181 

XI. The Low Countries and the Rhine, " 201 

XII. The People we Meet, " 226 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Leaving Home, ............... Frontispiece. 

The Landing-Stage at Liverpool, Page 4 

The Twin-Steamer " Calais- Douvre" Crossing the English Channel, " 6 

The Pont dii Card, '' 12 

View of a Portion of Genoa. — The Church of Santa Maria in 

Carignano at the Summit, " 2g 

A Distant View of Pisa, " 41 

On the Pincian Hill, " 5^ 

The Castle of San Angelo, from the Tiber. — St. Peter' s in the 

Distance, " ^J 

A Bird' s-Eye View of a Part of Rome, " 67 

In the Borghese Villa Gardens, " y8 

t 

Small Shops in Naples, . ' . . . " 82 

Boys at Work in the Excavations of Pompeii, " 8^ 

View of Excavated Portion of Pompeii, looking northwest, . . " Sy 



viii LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 

The Blue Grotto, Island of Capri, . - . Page 95 

The Mercato Vecchio, "■ 10^ 

A Bit of Venice, " 106 

A Scene in Venice, " log 

The Bridge of Sighs, , "11^ 

St. Mark's and the Campanile, "11^ 

Feeding the Pigeons in the Square^ of St. Mark's, . . . . . '''■ 1 16 

Scenes on the Rigi Railway, " i2iy 

The Rigi. — Showing Railway to the Top of the Mountain, . . " i ^2 

Pont and Place de la Concorde, " j^o 

The Avenue des Champs Ely sees. — The Arch of Triumph in the 

Distance, " 1^2 

The Tomh of Napoleon Bonaparte in the Church of the Invalides, " i^i 

St. Raid's Cathedral, seen over the Roofs of Neighboring Houses, " 160 

Westminster Ahhey, , " 7^5 

The Houses of Parliament, " i6g 

The Victoria Embankment , London, " lyg 

An English Meadow, " 1S3 

A Village Inn, " jgg 

A Quiet Bit of English Country, . . " ig6 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. ix 

A Dutch Windmill, .^ Page 20^ 

A House on the Dunes, " 206 

Dining-Room in a Dutch House, .......... " 2og 

The Cathedral of Cologne, "211 

The Castle of Rbeinstein, ' " ,21^ 

The Fortress of Ehrenbreit stein, ''■ 21 y 

The Hotel de Ville of Brussels, " 2ig 

Sketches in Antwerp, . " 22^ 

An English Railway Official, " 2^0 

French Bonnes and their Charges, "2^1 

A French Policeman, . " 2^2 

Italian Beggars, '' 2^4 

Following the Carriage, " 2^^ 

An Italian Model waiting for an Engagement, " 2^6 

Copying in the Gallery, " 2^g 



PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 



I. 



THE ROMANS, BUT NOT ROME. 



IT is quite a common thing for persons travelling in Europe who 
are unacquainted with the countries they intend to visit, to 

form themselves into companies, under the charge of a man 
who makes it his business to go with such parties and personally 
conduct them during the tours and journeys that may be agreed 
upon. Besides relieving travellers from the troubles and perplexi- 
ties which often befall them in countries with the language and 
customs of which they are not well acquainted, the personal con- 
ductor is familiar with all the objects of interest in the various 
places visited, and is able to explain to those under his charge 
everything that they see. 

It is my purpose to offer my services to you, my readers, to 
personally conduct you to various interesting places in Europe. I 
do not propose to take you over all Europe, nor to stop at every 
well-known place upon our route, for to do this would require a 
long time. ^ Of course, there are few places in the wOrld which 
have not been written about ; but every traveller sees something 
new, or sees old things in a new light, and when we visit great 
cities or noted localities, we shall not only try to enjoy what we 



PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 



have read of before, but to find out as much as possible for our- 
selves. I shall conduct you only over such ground as I myself 
have previously visited. And now, as we know what is to be done, 
we will set out. 

If we cross the Atlantic by one of the fast steamships, we shall 
make the voyage in about a week. But if we are going to Liver- 
pool, to which port most of the steamers sail, we must not think 
that our journey is over at the end of the seventh day. At that time 




THE LANDING-STAGE AT LIVERPOOL. 



we have only reached 
Queenstown, Ireland. 
The time of steamers 
crossing the Atlantic 
is estimated by the 
number of days and hours occu- 
pied in going from Sandy Hook 
to Queenstown, or from Queenstown to Sandy Hook. It is true 
that, on arriving at Queenstown we have reached Europe, but we 
must go on for about a day more before we get to Liverpool, the 
end of our voyage ; unless, indeed, we choose to stop for a time in 
Ireland, which many people do. We are landed at Liverpool by a 
little side-wheel steamboat, which conveys us from the ocean steamer, 
anchored in mid-stream, to the "landing-stage " or floating dock. 
And here I may as well state at once that we are on our way to 



THE ROMANS, BUT NOT ROME. 



the south of France and Italy, and that, therefore, we shall make 
short stops, at present, at intervening places, no matter how inter- 
esting they may be. For this reason we shall soon leave behind 
us Liverpool, with its magnificent stone docks, its seven miles of 
quays, and its enormous draught-horses, which bear the same rela- 
tion to common horses that Jumbo bore to common elephants. 
Nor shall we stop very long at the queer old town of Chester, full 
of quaint and curious houses of the olden time, some with Scrip- 
tural texts upon their fronts, and which has a wall entirely around 
it, built by the Romans when these mighty people were masters of 
England. If there is in our company any boy or girl who has 
studied ancient history so much that he or she is tired of hearing 
about the Romans, that member of our party must either turn back 
and go home, or else be prepared to exercise a great deal of resig- 
nation during the rest of our journeys. For, in travelling over 
civilized Europe, we might as well try to avoid English or American 
travellers (who are to be found everywhere) as to avoid the archi- 
tectural remains of the Romans, who were as orreat in colonizing- as 
they were in conquering, and who left marks of their enterprise 
from Africa to Scotland. If this energetic nation had known of 
the existence of a continent on the other side of the Atlantic, it 
is very likely that there would now be the remains of a Roman 
amphitheatre on Coney Island, and a Roman wall around Burling- 
ton, New Jersey. Even London, the greatest city in the civilized 
world, where we shall not stop now, although we shall visit it at 
a future time, received its original name, Londinium, from the 
Romans, who made it from two Saxon words, 

England is a beautiful country, and tempts us greatly to. linger; 
but we must keep on and cross over, as soon as possible, to the 
Continent ; and, as some of us are probably subject to sea-sickness, 
we will choose the shortest sea route — that between Dover and 



PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 



Calais.* The English Channel is one of the worst places in the 
world for causing sea-sickness, and we shall take passage upon 
a very curious vessel, built for the purpose of preventing, so far as 
possible, the rolling, pitching, and tossing which cause many travel- 
lers to suffer more in a few hours' trip between England and France 
than they had suffered in their whole voyage across the wide 
Atlantic. This vessel is, in reality, two boats, placed side by side, 
and covered with one deck like the catamarans in use in the United 




THE TWIN-STEAMER " CALAIS-DOUVRE " CROSSING THE ENGLISH CHANNEL. 



States. It has a comparatively easy and steady motion, and it is 
quite a novel experience to go out to the forward rail, and see 
the bows of the two vessels in front of us ploughing through the 
water, side by side, as if they were a pair of steamboats running 
a very even race. From Calais we go by rail to Paris, the most 
beautiful of all the great cities of the world ; but it is not our 
intention to stop here now, and so we keep on toward the south of 
France. 

Our first actual visit will be made to the small but very old city 

* Pronounced : in English, Katis, — in French, Kal' a. 



THE ROMANS, BUT NOT ROME. 



of Avignon, ■"■ on the River Rlione. This is a good place at which 
to begin our foreign life, for there are few towns in Europe which 
to an American boy or girl would seem more thoroughly foreign 
than Avignon. The town is surrounded by a high wall, with the 
battlements and towers almost as perfect as when they were built 
in the fourteenth century. Nearly all the streets are either narrow 
or crooked, and many are both, as streets used to be in the Middle 
Ages, and some of them are cut through solid rock, with queer old 
houses perched high overhead. But there are broad open spaces, and 
one straicrht wide street, which, with the handsome eate at the end 
of it, was formerly called the street and gate of Petrarch, after the 
famous poet who lived near Avignon. Lately, however, the French 
people have changed its name, and now it is called the street of the 
Republic. But with this exception there is nothing about Avignon 
that v;ould remind us of any modern town. Everything we see — 
the houses, the streets, the churches — looks as if it had been in yse 
for centuries. 

In the year 1309 Avignon became a very important place in the 
eyes of Europe ; for in that year the Pope of Rome came to live 
here, and made this little city the central seat of government of the 
Christian Church. Civil wars In Italy made Rome a very unpleasant 
place for the popes to live in, and, through the influence of the king 
of France, Pope Clement V. established himself at Avignon, and 
other popes succeeded him ; and the fact that for nearly a hundred 
years the popes lived at Avignon, has given this little city an 
important place in history. 

The massive palace in which the popes used to live still stands 
upon a hill called the Rocher des Doms, overlooking the town. 
This building, lofty in height and immense in extent, is now occu- 
pied as a military barracks ; but visitors can walk through it and see 

* Pronolinced A-veen'yoii^. 



PERSONALLY CONDUCJED. 



many remains of its former grandeur. But in its lofty halls (the 
walls of which were covered with fresco paintings by Italian mas- 
ters) rude soldiers now eat, drink, and sleep, where popes and 
cardinals once moved about in state. 

After a visit to the old cathedral near by, we go out upon the 
upper part of the hill, which is laid out as a pleasure-ground, with 
handsome walks and shrubbery. From a high point here we have 
one of the finest views in France, Far off to the eastward, with its 
white head against the deep blue sky, is a mountain, its top covered 
with perpetual snow. It is Mont Ventoux,'^ one of the Maritime 
Alps ; and, although we shall .see much grander mountains, we shall 
not be likely to forget this one, on top of which is lying, perhaps, 
the first perpetual snow that some of us have ever seen. Faraway 
on every side, we have beautiful views of the Rhone valley and the 
surrounding country, with its dark masses of forest, its vast stretches 
of fields and proves of olive-trees, and its little white stone villages 
scattered about here and there upon the landscape. The River 
Rhone runs close to the foot of the Rocher des Doms ; and looking 
across its two branches, which are here separated by a large island, 
we see something that seems like a fortress. The four walls, enclos- 
ing a large square space, have battlements and towers, most of which 
are now broken down ; but two fine old towers, with a gate-way 
between them, still stand up bold and high. Near these ruins is a 
long, straggling town, which is the very old town of Villeneuve,f or 
New City ; and the place with the walls around it is the ruins of 
the fortified Abbey of St. Andrew, which used to be a very impor- 
tant establishment in the time of the popes. Just beneath us there 
is a part of an ancient bridge which once stretched across the two 
branches of the river, and over the island, to the other side. The 
swIft-flovN^ing Rhone, however, has long since carried away nearly all 

* Pronounced MonS vons too , \ Pronounced Veel-nuv . 



THE ROMANS, BUT NOT ROME. 



of it, and there is nothing left but a small portion, with a little chapel 
standing on the outermost and broken end. 

There is now a modern bridge over the river, and, as I know we 
will all wish to examine the ruins of the abbey on the other side, 
we will cross over this ; and we soon enter the town of Villeneuve, 
which I am sure is the saddest and most deserted-looking place that 
any of you ever saw in your lives. 

There are few persons to be seen anywhere. We go up a long 
street with dead-looking houses on each side, and occasionally we 
see a magnificent stone portal with pillars and carved ornaments, 
which would seem to lead to some grand palace ; but, on looking 
through the gate-way we see nothing behind but a miserable little 
stone shanty, the palace having long ago gone to ruin. An impos- 
ing entrance of this kind, which leads to nothing of any consequence, 
reminds me of some people I have met. 

I must say here, while speaking of the aspect of Villeneuve, that 
we must not allow ourselves to be depressed by the melancholy 
little villages we shall meet with in our travels in the southern part 
of Europe. We must not expect pretty houses, surrounded by shade- 
trees, fresh grass, and flower-beds, such as we see in country places 
at home. In England, and some parts of the Continent, many of the 
small country houses and villages are extremely picturesque and 
attractive ; but in the southern part of Europe, where the summers 
are long and hot, the houses in the villages are built of gray or whit- 
ish stone, with as few windows as possible, and are crowded close 
together. The narrow streets are hard and white, and look as if 
they were made of the same stone as the houses. The heat can- 
not penetrate into these tomb-like buildings, and they may be very 
cool and satisfactory to the people who live in them, but they have 
not a cheerful air. But we shall get used to this and many other 
things which are either better or worse than what we have left 



lO PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

behind us at home; and the sooner we make up our minds to enjoy, 
so far as we can, whatever sights we see, without continually com- 
paring them with things at home, the greater pleasure shall we take 
in our travels, and the greater advantage will they be to us. 

When we have passed through the town and have reached the 
old abbey, we find a little man with a bunch of keys ; he is called 
the gardien, and has the privilege of showing the place. Did any 
of you ever read " The Mysteries of Udolpho," by Mrs. Radcliffe ? 
If you have, you will remember that the story is full of secret 
passages, concealed door-ways, trap-doors, and dungeons. The 
two oreat round towers which stand on each side of the main 
entrance to this abbey are very much like my idea of the Castle of 
Udolpho. We enter one of the towers by a little door on the 
ground, and find ourselves in a dark apartment ; then we go up 
narrow, winding stone stairs, with a rope on one side to take hold 
of ; and so visit, one after another, the various dungeons and 
rooms of the two towers, which are connected, and which for 
centuries were used tor prisons. In a small dark stone cell there 
is an inscription stating that Gaston, brother of Louis XIV., was 
here confined. It is said he was the " Man with the Iron Mask," 
who, from time to time, was shut up in various prisons of France. 
One of the large rooms has its stone floor literally covered with 
inscriptions scratched or carved there by prisoners. Some of these 
were made as late as the great French Revolution, while others 
date back to the tenth century. Some are very elaborate, and it 
must have taken the prisoners a long time to cut them out ; but that 
was probably the only way they had of passing the time. ' In the 
upper part of one of the towers is the bakery, with immense ovens, 
still apparently in good order. Near by is the little cell where 
.the baker, who was always a prisoner, was every night locked up. 
The gardien will point out to us trap-doors, on which we feel 



THE ROMANS. BUT NOT ROME. 1 1 

somewhat fearful to tread, and doors and dark passages which we 
should never be likely to find by ourselves. And, at last, we make 
> our way down the stone stairs, which are worn by the steps of 
many generations of prisoners, guards, and jailers, and out into 
the great enclosed space surrounded by the abbey walls. There 
are other towers at the corners of these walls, but they are in 
a ruined condition. Almost in the centre of the enclosure is a 
comparatively modern convent, with a wall around it. This is 
the only place within the bounds of the ancient abbey that is 
inhabited. 

Ruins of this kind possess a historical interest, and those who 
wish to understand the manners and customs of people of the 
Middle Ages should not fail to visit them, if it is in their power ; 
but, after all, I think we shall feel relieved when we go away from 
this gloomy fortress and these melancholy dungeons, and prepare 
to visit something which is a relic of the past — I may say of the 
very long, long past — but which has no saddening traditions con- 
nected with it. 

What we are now going to see is not at Avignon, but is distant 
about an hour's ride by rail. It is the Pont du Gard ■^' (or " Bridge 
of the Gard "), a great bridge, or aqueduct, built here by the 
Romans at a time when this part of France was occupied by the 
soldiers and colonies of that people ; and, next to the Colosseum 
at Rome, it is considered the grandest and most perfect piece of 
Roman architecture now standing in the world. 

In order to properly see this great ruin, we shall give a day to 
the visit ; and we shall take a morning train at the station at the 
end of the bridge, opposite Avignon, and go to Remoulin,f a 
small village about two miles from the Pont du Gard. Then as 
many of us as can be accommodated will get into little carriages, 

* Pronounced Fo?i" du Gar. \ Pronounced Reh-77WO-lan^ . 



12 



PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 



each drawn by one horse with a high horn to his collar, on which 
hang bells, and driven by a man in a blue blouse, with a whip that 
cracks as merrily as the bells jingle ; and the rest of us, I suppose, 
will have to walk. The most of our road is by the little River 
Gardon, usually called the Gard ; and, as we go along, we see 
French rural life much better than we can from the windows of a 




THE PONT DU GARD. 



railway train. The road is smooth and hard, like those of our city 
parks. Of this kind, indeed, are nearly all the roads in France. 
When we have gone about two miles, we reach a valley formed by 
two rows of high hills, which rise on each side of the river ; and at 
a turn in the road we suddenly see before us the' great Pont du 
Gard. It is an immense stone brido-e, risinof hio^h into the air and 
stretching across the whole valley. It consists of three rows of 



THE ROMANS, BUT NOT ROME. 13 

arches, one above the other. In the lower row there are six very 
laree arches ; above this is a longer row of eleven smaller arches ; 
and over this, thirty-five arches still smaller. On the top of the 
upper row, and forming the summit of the bridge, is a covered 
aqueduct, or water-way. At a little distance this vast bridge seems 
almost as entire and perfect as when first built, and we can hardly 
realize the fact that it has stood there for nineteen centuries. The 
valley here is wild and almost desolate. There is a mill on one 
side of the river, and a small house, nearly concealed by trees, on 
the other ; and an occasional wagon may be seen moving slowly 
along the road, or crossing the river on a bridge, which was built 
in 1 743 for military purposes, close to the lower arches of the 
ancient structure and partly resting on them. Otherwise the place 
is quiet and deserted, as it probably always has been ; and it seems 
strange that the Romans should have built such a stupendous and 
costly bridge in a spot like this. But it was not put here that 
people might cross the little River Gardon, which is spanned by a 
single one of the lower row of arches. There is a broad pavement 
of great slabs of stone on the top of this first row of arches, and 
on this persons could walk if there happened to be anybody who 
wanted to cross the river at this point ; but vehicles could never go 
over the Pont du Gard. It was erected solely for the purpose of 
carrying water across the valley, and was part of an aqueduct, 
twenty-five miles long, constructed by the Romans to conduct the 
water of the springs of Airan to their town of Nemausus, now the 
Trench town of Nimes.* Remains of this aqueduct may still be seen 
in various parts of the country between the springs and Nimes. 

We all stop for a few moments to gaze at this massive 
structure — even now one of the greatest bridges in the world — 
and then we hurry forward to take possession of it. This we may 

* Pronounced Neon. 



14 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED, 

truly do for as long a time as we please, for there is no gardie?i 
here in charge of the bridge ; there are no guides to take us about 
and explain everything, as if they were " saying a lesson " which 
they had learned years ago, and had repeated every day since ; 
and it is very likely there are no tourists wandering up and down 
with red guide-books in their hands, for it is an out-of-the-way 
place. So we have the great bridge to ourselves, and can wander 
and climb about it as much as we like. We send the little 
carriages back to Remoulin, with orders to return for us in the 
afternoon, and ^wo. ourselves up to the pleasant occupation of 
finding out exactly what sort of a bridge the Romans constructed 
when they made up their minds to build a really good one. The 
first thing we do is to pass under some of the lower arches to the 
farther side ; and this we can easily do, for, as I said before, the 
little river runs under but one of these arches, the other's stretch- 
ing over the rocks, the grass, and the road in the bottom of the 
valley. From the other side we get a view of the ancient bridge 
unobstructed by the modern one, which was built by a warrior 
duke for the purpose of getting his cannon and military wagons 
across the stream, and which is now a very good bridge for 
vehicles of the present day. As we gaze up at the old bridge, we 
see great stones projecting at regular intervals from its sides, from 
the bottom up to the top of the second row of arches. These 
served as supports to the derricks and other machines by which 
the massive stones were raised as the building progressed ; and 
when Agrippa (the son-in-law of Caesar Augustus), who is believed 
to have built this bridge, had finished his great work, he did not 
think it necessary to make his workmen cut off these projecting 
stones, and thus we have an idea of one of the methods by which 
the Roman stone-masons worked. When we go up to the road, 
which is on a level with the top of the first row of arches, we all 



THE ROMANS, BUT NOT ROME. 1 5 

cross the bridge on the broad pavement, which seems as smooth 
and soHd as when it was laid down, before the beginning of the 
Christian era. The second row of arches rests upon this pave- 
ment ; but there is plenty of room on the outside of them for us to 
walk, and, if we keep on the side next to the modern bridge, there 
is no danger of falling off. When we step under the arches of this 
second row and look up, we see the square indentations in the 
stone-work which were made there to support the scaffolding of 
the Roman masons. The world has changed so much since those 
holes were made that it is almost like a new world ; and if 
Agrippa, the famous aqueduct-builder, could come back to life, he 
would find a wonderfully different Rome and a wonderfully dif- 
ferent Europe from those he used to know, but he would see the 
square holes in his arches exactly as he left them. 

When we have examined the bridge as much as we wish to 
from this broad lower pavement, we make up our minds to go to 
the very top of it, and see what is to be seen there. The aqueduct, 
which rests on the upper row of arches, extends from the upper 
part of the hills on one side of the valley to the hills on the other, 
and we can reach it by climbing a steep path. When we get to the 
•end of the path — and those of you who are inclined to be fat, and 
also inclined to be in a hurry, must expect to puff a little at this 
point — we find that we can look through the long covered water- 
way from one end to the other. But, more than this, we can walk 
through it if we choose, and this we immediately prepare to do. 
This long passage, through which the water used to run, is several 
feet wide, and higher than a tall man, and in some places the broad 
slabs of stone which formed its roof are missing, so that it is now 
very well lighted. There is no danger in walking throtigh it, for 
there are no holes in the floor through which one might fall, and 
the walls of the aqueduct are still perfect. The bridge is old, 



1 6 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

but it is solid enough to support all the people who may choose to 
walk through its water-way, and hundreds of years from now it will 
probably be as strong as it is to-day. There have been young men 
who have partly crossed this bridge by climbing on the roof of the 
water-way and walking on the top of the stone slabs. There is 
no railing there for any of them to catch hold of should they make 
a misstep, and, although it is quite wide enough to walk on, it is 
too high in the air to make it safe for a promenade. So we shall 
keep off this roof, and walk in the narrow passage through which 
the water used to flow to the old Roman town. 

When this water-way was built, it was lined with the famous 
Roman cement, through which water could not penetrate. The 
bottom, or floor, of the passage is now a good deal broken, and 
there are loose pieces of this plaster, about half an inch thick, 
lying here and there. I dare say many of the young people will 
pick up some of these, and carry them away as mementos of mason- 
work which was comparatively new and fresh at the time when 
Mary and Joseph, with their little Child, took their flight into 
Egypt. It is not right to injure mbnuments or buildings, either 
ancient or modern, by carrying away pieces of them as relics, but 
there is no harm in taking a piece of plaster which may be crushed 
by the first heavy heel that treads upon it. It is a queer sensation, 
walking through this long rectangular pipe — for it is nothing else — 
which is raised to such a great height in the air. When we arrive 
at about the middle, those of us who happen to think of the three 
rows of arches beneath us, and of the good old age to which they 
have arrived, may perhaps begin to feel a little nervous ; but there 
is really no danger,- and if you think you feel the bridge swerving 
from side to side, it is all imagination. It is certainly a very nar- 
row bridge, considering its great height and length, but the storms 
of nineteen centuries have not moved it. 



THE ROMANS, BUT NOT ROME. 1 7 

When we come to the other end of the bridge, we find that it 
is somewhat broken, and does not reach the hill-top in front of it ; 
but there are stones, like steps, by which we can make our way to 
a path which will take us down the hill to the valley. This valley 
is a delightful place for a picnic, and here we shall sit down and 
eat the luncheons we have brought with us. In some places the 
ground is covered with beautiful green grass, shaded by trees, and 
near the bridge are many rocks which are pleasant to sit upon. 
Not far away is an olive orchard, and when I first visited this place 
many of the olives were ripe. I had never before seen ripe olives, 
which are of a dark purple, almost black, and look like little plums. 
I naturally wished to know how they tasted, and so I picked one and 
tried it. I do not believe the owner of the grove would object to 
the boys and girls picking as many ripe olives as they chose, pro- 
vided they would give him a cent apiece for all they did not eat 
after tasting one. The foliage of olive trees is of a dull grayish 
green, and although picturesque when seen in masses and at a 
little distance with the sunlight upon it, is not of a cheerful hue. 
But an olive grove will always appear more cheerful to those who 
have not tasted the ripe fruit than to those who have. The olives 
which we use on our tables are picked green and pickled ; those 
which ripen are used for oil. 

We wander by the side of the little river, which sometimes 
spreads out to quite a width, overhung by trees, and then hurries 
between rocks toward the mill, where it spreads 'itself out again 
and falls gayly over a dam. Then we sit upon the rocks and 
the grass, and look through the great lower arches of the old 
bridge, and we see through each one a different picture ; some- 
times a bit of the river, the mill, and distant hills spotted with 
villages and steeples ; sometimes the river, a grove, the bright green 
grass, and the deep blue sky ; and then again a white road, with a 



PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 



queer old-fashioned wagon making its way slowly along ; or high^ 
rocky hills, and a mass of deep green foliage, with a bit of sky just 
visible at the top. 

And, when we gaze upward, there is the bridge, wonderful in 
its size, its beauty, and enduring strength, and still more wonderful 
in the story it tells of that great nation which once spread itself 
over the known world, leaving everywhere monuments of its power 
and wealth. But, with one exception, none of its monuments which 
survive to-day are so vast and imposing as this immense bridge, 
built simply for the purpose of giving good pure water to the inhab- 
itants of a little town. Nearly every one who sees the Pont du 
Gard makes the remark that^it seems strange that such an enormous 
and expensive bridge should have been built just to carry water 
across that valley. Truly, the Romans were an energetic people. 

The reason why the Pont du Gard is now so much more a per- 
fect structure than that other great remaining work of the Roman 
architects, the Colosseum, is that it has always stood at a distance 
from towns and cities, whose Inhabitants might want its stones to 
build their palaces and their huts. It is not the hand of time that 
has, in most cases, destroyed the temples and other architectural 
works of the ancients, but the hand of man. They were built 
strongly and massively ; but, although they could resist the storms 
of centuries, they could not resist the crow-bars of men, who found 
it much easier to take away their stones, already cut and shaped, 
than to quarry building material from the rocks. The world has 
now more respect for ancient remains than it used to have ; and I 
feel sure that if ever a town arises near the Pont du Gard, the 
stones of the old bridge will not be taken to build its houses. 

But now we hear jingling bells and the cracking of whips, and 
here come the little carriages to take us back to Remoulin. 

At Nimes, and at some other places In the south of France,, 



THE ROMANS, BUT NOT ROME. 19 

there are ruins of amphitheatres and other Roman buildings; but 
we shall not visit these now. After a while we wish to o-o to Rome, 
and if we see too many Roman ruins before we get there, it may 
take off a little of the edge of the keen pleasure we expect in the 
Eternal City. 

But the Pont du Gard is something that is different from any- 
thing else in the world : it would not do to miss that. 



11. 



THE CITY OF THE BENDED KNEE. 



IT is not by any means a humble city to which I am now about to 
conduct you : it is an old city, which from time to time has 

been as proud as any in the world ; it is Genoa, called by the 
Italians La Superba, because of its many magnificent palaces, and 
because of its imposing appearance, as it rises in terraces above its 
bay on the side of a crescent-shaped hill. It was called Genoa, so 
say the people who make it their business to look into these things, 
from the Latin word gemi,, a knee ; because at the place where the 
city stands, the land is bent around the water so as to give the latter 
the shape of a bended knee. 

As I have said, Genoa has been a proud city. As far back as 
the days of the Romans it was an important seaport. It was inde- 
pendent, and governed itself, and its power increased greatly. Other 
towns looked up to it for protection against the Saracen pirates ; 
and it acquired possession, not only of islands in the Mediterranean, 
but of lands and ports in the East. Its commerce was very exten- 
sive, and it took a prominent part in the crusades. It made war 
against Pisa, and utterly defeated the navy of that city ; and there 
is reason to believe that the great Tower of Pisa has never stood up 
straight since. 

But, in spite of its wealth and its power, Genoa has been obliged 
to bend the knee about as often as any city that I know of. In the 
tenth century it knelt down to the Saracens, who captured it ; and 
afterward it bent its knee to Venice, its ^reat rival in commerce. 



THE CITY OF THE BENDED KNEE. 21 

For many years its nobles were arrayed against each other as 
Guelphs and Ghibellines, and whenever either party was defeated, 
it would call in some foreign power to help it ; and in this way the 
city, at different times, fell under the control of various kings and 
princes of Europe. The Turks took away its Eastern possessions, 
and long afterward it was captured by Germany, and was twice 
taken possession of by France. It now belongs to the United 
Kingdom of Italy. But, although it is no longer independent, 
Genoa stands up very erect in its own estimation ; and it has a right 
to do so, for it is the first commercial city in Italy. 

Genoa is a bright and lively place, where the people seem to 
keep awake all day, and there are a great many things to see here. 
An American boy or girl could not go into any part of the city 
without findinof something- interestino;. We shall first visit some 
of the palaces, and on our way we pass through the street of the 
goldsmiths. Genoa is almost as much celebrated for a peculiar 
kind of gold and silver work as it is for its palaces, and we shall 
wish to stop and look at the shop Vv^indows in this busy little street. 
There are no sidewalks, but the whole street is a footway paved 
with large smooth flag-stones, and if a carriage or wagon appears 
in it, it moves slowly among the people. Nearly every little shop 
belongs to a goldsmith, as they are called, although they work more 
in silver than in gold, and the productions of these artisans consist 
almost entirely of small articles and ornaments made of fine silver 
wire, often gilded, and woven into the most delicate and beautiful 
shapes. Work like this is not to be seen in such perfection any- 
where as in Genoa. Some of the shops are entirely open in front, 
so that you can stand in the street and look at the large cases filled 
with this fairy-like gold and silver work ; and, if you wish to buy 
some of the articles, you will find that they are not costly. 

From this street we turn into another, with tall houses on each 



2 2 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

side, and shops and people everywhere. We soon pass an immense 
house, which was once a palace, but is now used for other purposes. 
Looking up, we see that one of the great windows in the second 
story is open, and a lady is sitting at it. She is dressed in very 
bright, though somewhat old-fashioned, attire. Flowers and vines 
cluster inside the window, and there is a hanorino^ cao-e with a bird. 
As we stop and look at her, the lady does not move, and in a. few 
minutes we perceive that the window, the lady, the open shutters, 
the sash, the flowers, and the cage are all painted on the wall in a 
space where you would naturally expect to find a window. This 
used to be a favorite way of decorating houses in Italy, and in 
Genoa we shall frequently see these painted windows, some closed, 
and some partly open, some with one person looking out, some with 
two, and some with none. The lady at this window has sat and 
looked out on the street for hundreds of years. Under her window, 
into the gr^at entrance of the palace, used to pass nobles and 
princes. Now there are shops in the lower part of the palace, and 
you can have 3'our shoes mended by a cobbler in the court-yard. 

We soon reach the street which contains the greatest number 
of palaces, and which is now called the Via Garibaldi ; and here we 
should stop to take a look at the outside of some of the palaces of 
the Middle Ages. They are but slightly injured by time, and look 
much as they did when they were inhabited by the nobles of the 
sixteenth century. One of the first things which will strike some 
of us in regard to these palaces is the total absence of front doors, 
or doors opening on the street. It is not the custom in Europe to 
build houses of any pretension with doors on a public thoroughfare. 
These great Genoese palaces, often five or six stories high, are 
built around a central court, which is entered by an archway from 
the street. Carriages go through this archway, and people walk 
through it, and they find doors enough when they get into the 



THE CITY OF THE BENDED KNEE. 23 

court-yard, which is often large and handsome, and adorned with 
fountains and statuary. The ground floor is devoted to offices, arid 
servants. On what we would consider the second story, but which 
in Europe is called the first floor, these palaces frequently contain 
great picture-galleries, consisting of long suites of rooms filled with 
valuable paintings ; and in the third, fourth, and sometimes even 
in the fifth story, are the domestic apartments of the family. These 
palaces are as large as our great hotels, and there are no elevators 
to take people to the upper floors ; but Europeans do not mind 
going upstairs ; and the upper floors are often considered the most 
desirable of all. 

The staircases, which sometimes open from the court and some- 
times from the inside of the building, are great features of Genoese 
palaces, many of which are worth going to see simply on account 
of their grand and imposing stairways, which have been designed 
by celebrated architects. They are always of marble or stone, and 
this fashion prevails in large houses all over southern Europe. An 
Italian lady once said to me that she had heard a very strange 
thing about America, and that was that our staircases were built 
of wood ; and when I told her that was the case, she said she did 
not see how we could ever be willing to go to sleep in a house with 
wooden stairways ; for, if they were to take fire, how could we get 
out ? Houses on the continent of Europe are much safer than ours 
in case of fire. In Italy it is seldom that a large dwelling is burned 
down ; for, as walls, floors, and stairs are almost entirely stone or 
brick, there is very little to burn. 

We cannot go into all the palaces in this street ; for, although 
it is quite short, it contains over a dozen of them. Some of the 
Genoese palaces are still occupied by members of the noble fami- 
lies for whom they w'ere built in the sixteenth century, but visitors 
are generally admitted to portions of all of them, especially the 



24 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

picture-galleries. As we walk through room after room of these 
immense edifices, the walls covered with valuable pictures and the 
ceilings painted by celebrated artists, and then mount grand stair- 
ways adorned with ancient and modern sculptures, and find other 
floors, and seemingly endless suites of other rooms, many of them 
of much beauty and magnificence — we wonder how one family 
could ever have needed so many rooms, and so grand a house that 
must have cost so much money. But we must remember that 
these nobles had great numbers of servants and adherents, who all 
lived in the palace ; and they entertained, besides, many visitors, 
so that their families were very much larger than any of those to 
which we are accustomed, even the very richest and most important 
of us. One of the grandest palaces in this street is now called the 
Palazzo del Municipio, for it belongs to the city. Another magnifi- 
cent one is the Palazzo Rosso, so called because it is built of red 
stone ; and nearly opposite is the Palazzo Bianco, or white palace. 

But the Via Garibaldi, called in old times the Via Nuova, or 
new street, does not contain, by any means, all the great palaces 
of Genoa. In the Via Balbi, near by, are many of these palatial 
buildings, and, among them, the Royal Palace, which is occupied 
by the king and queen of Italy when they happen to be in Genoa. 
In the great entrance archway we see some soldiers and a porter, 
or custodian, dressed in uniform ; and if we look as if we would 
give him a franc when we come out, this latter personage will 
conduct us through the palace, provided, of course, that the royal 
owners, who usually reside in Rome, are not there. We all wish 
to know how kings and queens live, and so we go through the 
rooms of this palace — the grand saloons, and the smaller' ones, the 
dining-halls, the queen's bed-chamber, and the king's bed-chamber. 
Here is the furniture they use, and the beds they sleep on. Every- 
thing is very sumptuous and handsome, but we notice that the 



THE CITY OF THE BENDED KNEE. 25 

king's bedstead, which is of iron, richly gilt, looks old, with some 
of the ornaments rubbed off. If King Humbert were one of our 
rich men, he would probably have a new bedstead ; but, as he does 
not come very often to Genoa, he doubtless considers this good 
enough. I think you all will agree that in this palace, as well as in 
many others, there is nothing that seems to us very cozy accord- 
ing to our ideas of such things. The floors are of rich marble or 
tiles, and the furniture, though magnificent and costly, appears stiff 
and too orderly. But in winter carpets and rugs are laid down, 
no doubt ; and when the king and queen are here the tables and 
chairs are probably pulled about a little, and things appear more 
homelike. 

In the Pallavacini Palace, which is even finer than that of the 
king, after passing through a number of stately apartments, all 
cold and splendid, we are shown into a sitting-room, occupied by 
the family in the afternoons and evenings, which is carpeted, and 
looks almost as comfortable as some of our rooms at home. But a 
wonderful silver vase, by the celebrated Benvenuto Cellini, marks 
a difference between this apartment and our sitting-rooms. 

The last palace we shall visit is the Doria Palace, the most 
interesting in the city ; and on our way there we meet a gentleman 
we know. Every one of us is acquainted with him, and we all feel 
under great obligations to him. He is very tall and pale, but his 
figure is grand and imposing, and he stands up high, where every- 
body can see him. It is Christopher Columbus — and where should 
we Americans have been without him ! It eives us a strano^e sen- 
sation, in this Italian city, with its queer streets and tall palaces 
and its unfamiliar sights of every kind, to come upon this statue of 
good old Columbus, whom we have all known so well from our 
earliest childhood, and whom we have been accustomed to look 
upon somewhat in the light of the grandfather of our country. The 



26 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 



Genoese think a great deal of Columbus — who was born in this 
neighborhood, you may remember — although they did not do much 
for him when he was alive. But there are always people who are 
willincr to honor a successful man after some one else has given him 
a chance to show what he can do. At the foot of the statue is a 
kneeling figure representing our country thanking Columbus for 
having discovered her; and the whole stands in a beautiful open 
square. There are other mementos of Columbus in the city, and 
in the Municipal Palace two of his letters are preserved. 

At a little distance stands the palace to which we are going, 
which was presented by the city, in the year 1522, to the famous 
Admiral Andrea Doria, who by his naval victories gave peace and 
safety to Genoa, and who was called the Father of his Country, 
The admiral was not far from sixty years old when this grand 
palace was presented to him, and it might have been supposed that 
he would not have many years In which to enjoy it. But the situ- 
ation seems to have agreed very well with him, for he lived to the 
age of ninety-five. This palace is somewhat different in plan from 
the others in Genoa ; and we first enter a long portico, or loggia, 
which looks out upon an extensive and beautiful garden with sum- 
mer-houses. Mounting to the first floor, we walk into the great 
entrance-hall, on the walls and ceiling of which are fresco-paintings 
by Del Vaga, a famous pupil of Raphael, We enter room after 
room, with the ceilings and walls covered with paintings and 
decorations ; and one of these, a small apartment, is so painted as 
to give the idea that it is partly in ruins. There are vacant places 
in the ceiling from which stones seem to have tumbled out, vines 
creep through wide crevices, and on the top of broken places in the 
walls there sit owls and other birds, A person, not understanding 
the fancies and freaks of old-time architects and artists, might be 
a little startled on entering this room, and might imagine that if 



THE CITY OF THE BENDED KNEE, *27 

he shook the floor with his tread the walls and roof would come 
tumbling down upon him. In an apartment called the Titan Hall 
is a portrait of the old admiral and his favorite cat, wherein the 
cat looks as if she enjoyed the palace quite as much as her master. 
Here, too, are the chairs in which Doria used to sit, and many 
other articles of his furniture. On one side of the house is a long 
room, the outer wall of which is of glass. Here the old gentle- 
man could walk up and down when the sun shone, and look out 
upon his great gardens and his villa, which stood upon a terraced 
hill opposite, as well as upon the beautiful harbor of Genoa, and 
— at the same time — be as comfortable as if he were sitting before 
the fire. This palace still belongs to members of the admiral's 
family, but they live in a vast square palace in Rome. 

Opening from one of the piazzas, or squares, which are found 
everywhere in Genoa, is a little street called a salita, which is 
probably different from any street you ever saw before. It is but 
a few feet wide, and consists of a series of broad steps, paved with 
cobble-stones, which lead us downward for a long distance to 
a little piazza nearly surrounded by tall houses, on one side of 
which stands the small dark church of San Matteo. This is where 
old Admiral Doria used to go to church. Over the altar hangs 
the long sword he once wore, and in a vault below he is buried. 
The little church is filled with beautiful sculptures and works of 
art, and on the outside are many inscriptions relating to the Doria 
family, some of whom attended service here at least two centuries 
before the admiral was born. 

Xhere are a good many churches in Genoa, and most of them 
are very different from this dark little building. One of them, the 
Cathedral, is a very large and old edifice, built of black and white 
marble ; and in it, carefully guarded, is a cup or vase, said to be 
the Holy Grail, or the cup used by Christ and his disciples at the 



28 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

Last Supper. This was captured in the Holy Land, by the 
Genoese, during the Crusades. People who wish to believe that 
this cup is the Holy Grail, do so, and those who do not, do not. 
Another church, Santa Annunziata, which is now attended by the 
rich people of Genoa, is gorgeously ornamented, and has the 
greater portion of its ceiling covered with pure gold. 

When we enter any of these churches we do not open a door, 
but are obliged to push aside a corner of a great heavy leathern 
curtain, which hangs in the doorway. There is always an old 
woman or a poor old man to pull aside this curtain for us, in 
exchange for a copper ; and inside we find a sacristan, or sexton,, 
fond of a little silver, who will show us everything in the church. 

Genoa is, as I have said, the great commercial city of Italy,, 
having now outstripped her former rival, Venice, in this respect ; 
and the large harbor is a very lively and interesting place. In 
order to see it to the best advantage, we go upon a broad marble 
terrace, built high above the crowded streets, and extending for 
half a mile along the harbor. This terrace, which was constructed 
for the purpose of giving the citizens a promenade by the water- 
front, where they would not be interfered with by the crowds of 
people and vehicles in that part of the town, is about forty feet 
wide, and the floor is very smooth, so that persons may often be 
seen here skating on roller-skates. It is a delightful place on 
which to enjoy the fresh sea-air, and to look down on the harbor, 
stretching far out before us, crowded with steamers, sailing-vessels, 
and small boats, and shut in by long moles, or walls, v/ith light- 
houses on them. 

Any one who likes to see sailors can have a fine opportunity of 
seeing them in Genoa. In the busy streets near the harbor are 
to be found hundreds of mariners from every part of the world. 
Here they stand and sit about, and talk and smoke, and some of 




VIEW OF A PORTION OF GENOA. — THE CHURCH OF SANTA MARIA IN CARIGNANO AT THE SUMMIT. 



THE CITY OF THE BENDED KNEE. 31 

the old fellows look as if they had lived nearly as long as the 
famous admiral himself. These sailors, many of whom wear red 
woollen caps, and gay sashes around their waists, have often a 
piratical look, and it is said that it is not always safe for strangers 
to wander among them in certain parts of the town. But there 
are so many of us that we can go where we please. 

There are plenty of youngsters, boys and gi^rls, to be seen 
about the harbor, in which place the idea probably came into the 
head of the boy Columbus that he would like to be a sailor, and 
see what was to be seen in other parts of the world ; and, for 
aueht we know, some of the rouorh-lookine little fellows whom we 
see sitting on the posts, or running up and down the stone steps 
which, in some places, lead to the higher parts of the town, may 
yet turn out to be hardy navigators. But there are no more 
continents for them to discover — unless, indeed, they go into the 
Arctic or Antarctic regions, where the climate, I fear, would not 
suit a Genoese. 

Near the marble terrace, at one end, is an old building, which 
used to be considered one of the most important houses in the 
world. It was the bank of San Giorgio, a great banking-house of 
the Middle Ages. In the time of the Crusades it furnished money 
to the bold knights who went out to recover the Holy Land from 
the Saracens, and for centuries it was a most wealthy and powerful 
institution. No matter what happened to the Republic of Genoa, 
whether the Guelphs or the Ghibellines were uppermost, whether 
she was ruled by her own nobles, or doges, or whether outside 
potentates were called in to take part in her government, the great 
bank of San Giorgio always stood firm. It owned large posses- 
sions in Corsica and other places, and there was a time when 
there was reason to believe that if it had not been for foreign 
wars it would have acquired possession of the whole of the little 



PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 



republic. But now the old building is no longer a bank, and the 
great painting of St. George on horseback, which adorns the wall 
facing the sea, has been almost worn away by the rain and salt 
breezes of hundreds of years. It is used as a custom-house, and 
we can go inside and see statues and pictures of some of the 
famous men of Genoa ; but it is much more interesting, if we can 
do it, to imagine that we see tall knights, with a great cross 
embroidered on their clothes, coming in to talk to the officers of 
the bank about the money which is to take them to Jerusalem. 

If we wish to see for ourselves how Genoa obtained its name, 
we can go to the church of Santa Maria in Carignano, a stately 
edifice on a high hill, and ascend to the upper part of the great 
dome. From this high point we can see the whole city spread out 
beneath us — the surrounding country, with its hills, its groves, and 
its villas, and a line of fortifications nine miles long, with its forts 
and ramparts ; while, to the south, the bright blue Mediterranean 
stretches far away. And when our eyes have taken in all the 
landscape, we see how the water comes into the land in the shape 
of the bended knee. 

When we have walked through the lively and crowded streets 
of Genoa ; when we have been in the small piazza in front of the 
Exchange, filled with men, talking and clamoring about the price 
of stocks and that sort of thing as earnestly as if they were in 
Wall Street; and when we have visited the new Galleria Mazzini, 
a long passage, like a wide street, used only by foot-passengers, 
covered the whole length by a high roof of glass, and lined on 
each side by handsome shops, and altogether very agreeable for a 
walking or shopping expedition in wet weather — we will go to 
a place visited by nearly every one who comes to Genoa, which is 
not at all lively or bustling, but very much crowded. This is a 
cemetery called the Campo Santo, or Holy Field. 



THE CITY OF THE BENDED KNEE. 33 

The Campo Santo is in some respects a peculiar cemetery. One 
thing which makes it very different from what we expect to see in 
a city dating from the Middle Ages, such as Genoa, is that there 
is nothing at all antiquated or old-fashioned about it. It will be 
to us a curiosity of modern times. 

This Campo Santo is about a mile and a half from the city, and 
is built in the form of a vast square court, with the tombs of the 
rich in raised galleries on the four sides, and the graves of the poor 
in the fiat ground in the middle. All the galleries are built of 
white marble, with roofs and long lines of pillars ; and the tombs 
are generally placed along the inner side of the galleries, and the 
greater part of them are surmounted by groups of life-size statuary. 
It is these statues, all of them the work of famous modern Italian 
sculptors, which give to the place its queer and peculiar character. 
Many of the groups consist not only of statues of the persons 
buried in the tombs, but life-like figures of the surviving relatives, 
dressed in modern clothes. In one place you will see a father on 
his death-bed ; his wife, dressed in the fashion of the present day, 
sitting by his side ; while his son, a young man in double-breasted 
sack coat and striped trousers, and a daughter, with a polonaise 
and plaited skirt, stand at the foot of the couch. These figures are 
so well done that they almost seem to be alive ; and as the members 
of the family come year after year to the cemetery, they must be 
content to see the clothes they were sculptured in getting more 
and more old-fashioned. Some of the designs are fine and artistic, 
although to our ideas very strange. 

In one part of the grounds we perceive a young lady richly 
attired in a dress with a long train trimmed with a double row of 
ruffles and lace, and wearing a cape edged with scalloped lace, 
kneeling at the foot of her father's tomb, while a grand and beauti- 
ful figure of Christ rises out of some clouds just in front of her, 
3 



34 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

and with one hand over the recumbent statue of her dead father, 
and one over her head, offers her consolation. In another place 
there is a group of two sisters, who are kneeling by the door of the 
tomb of a third sister ; the door of the tomb is partly open, and the 
buried sister, in company with an angel who holds her by thehand^ 
has just come out of it, and is rising toward the sky. As these 
figures are life size, the effect is very striking. Close to this tomb 
is one which is planned upon an entirely different idea : a large old 
angel, with a long beard and a very grim and severe countenance, 
is sitting solemnly upon a closed tomb. His expression gives one 
the idea that he has looked around upon the young lady who has 
been liberated by the angel, and that he has said to himself : " The 
person in the tomb on which I am sitting need not expect to get 
out until the proper time comes." There is no doubt that these 
groups are considered very appropriate monuments to deceased 
friends and relatives by those who have placed them there, but 
some of them cannot fail to strike Americans as strange and odd. 
Some of the monuments, however, are very beautiful, without 
any of these queer fancies, and there are many portrait-statues 
of deceased persons. One of these is a figure of an old woman, 
exactly life size, who was known in Genoa as a great friend of 
the poor. She used to carry them bread and other things which 
they needed ; and she is here represented wearing the dress in which 
she walked about the town, and carrying a loaf of bread in her 
hand. The statue was ordered by her before her death, and she 
was very careful to have it made precisely like her ; her gown,, 
her stiffly-starched clean apron, her cap, and the material and 
pattern of her shawl and all her clothes are exactly imitated. 
Altogether, she is one of the most life-like old women in marble 
that you are ever likely to see. In contrast with this statue is a 
beautiful marble figure of a little child, lightly dressed, who is 



THE CITY OF THE BENDED KNEE. 35 

Stepping with an airy tread above a mass of flowers. The action 
is so free and graceful, and her expression so lovely and natural, 
that her parents, when they come here, must think they see their 
little daughter bounding out to meet them. 

On the side of the great square opposite the entrance to the 
cemetery is a large circular chapel with a lofty dome= It is 
approached by a flight of steps, and presents an imposing appear- 
ance. The interior of this white marble edifice is very handsome, 
the dome being supported by great columns of black marble, each 
cut out of a single block. But the most charming thing in this 
building is a wonderful echo. The nian who shows the place 
to visitors stands under the dome, and sings a few notes ; in a 
moment these are repeated, clear and loud, from the expanse 
above. The effect is so fine that we make him go through the 
performance over and over again. 

About five miles from the city is the celebrated Villa Pallavicini, 
which is considered one of the great sights of Genoa. We can 
go to the place by a line of horse-cars, which here have the Eng- 
lish name of " tramways." In many parts of the continent of 
Europe, where horse-cars are now quite common, this English 
word has been adopted ; and, if it has no other good effect, it 
may teach the French the use of the letter W, which is not recog- 
nized in their language. The villa belongs to a rich and powerful 
Italian family, and visitors are allowed to see it. When we reach 
the great gate we apply at the porter's lodge for a guide, for people 
are not permitted to go about the grounds alone. After walking 
up a broad avenue, we enter another gate, and soon come to the 
house, a beautiful and spacious edifice, with marble porticos, and 
terraces. A few richly furnished rooms are shown, but, as the Palla- 
vicini family reside here part of the year, we cannot see the whole 
of the house. But it is not the princely residence that we come to 



36 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

see : it is the extensive pleasure-grounds around the house, which 
are planned in a manner very different from anything to which we 
are accustomed. These grounds, which lie on a hill above the 
house, are very beautiful, and are crowded with all sorts of imita- 
tions of natural objects, with queer and ingenious devices of many 
kinds, as well as with most lovely groups of flowers and plants ; 
while a great variety of evergreens and other trees are so arranged 
as to give the grounds the appearance of a wood, although they are 
placed with such skill that the sun is by no means always shut out. 
As we walk along the winding paths leading up the hill, we see 
great masses of camellias, oleanders, roses, azaleas, and other rich 
flowers ; some of the camellias being as large as small trees. Plants 
from every part of the world are to be found here — coffee, tea, 
vanilla, sugar-cane, camphor, and even specimens of the cork-tree. 
But we shall see that the person who designed these grounds had 
an eye for the queer and surprising as well as for the beautiful. 

The walk through the grounds will occupy us about two hours, 
and we shall see something novel at every turn. Speaking of turns, 
there are swings which revolve like great wheels instead of merely 
going backward and forward, and in which we can take a turn if we 
choose. Near these is a handsome little marble edifice, built on 
the occasion of a visit that the Empress Maria Theresa made to 
this villa. 

When we get to the top of the hill, we see a castle, strongly 
fortified, but which appears to have been somewhat damaged. 
These damages are all artificial, and the castle was built to look as 
if it had sustained a sieofe. All about are evidences of the orreat 
fight which never took place. Near by are a number of graves 
which are intended to represent the resting-places of the men (who 
never existed) who fell during the siege. Among them is the 
handsome mausoleum of the imaginary commandant of the castle, 



THE CITY OF THE BENDED KNEE. 37 

who died an imaginary death during the imaginary conflict. The 
person who planned these make-beheve vestiges of war, which cost 
a great deal of money, must have had an odd idea of making a 
place interesting. We can go into the castle, and from the tower 
we have a grand view of the sea and the country, as well as of the 
Pallavicini estate, which extends for a great distance. 

Coming down the other side of the hill, we reach a grotto, 
which is entirely artificial, but with real stalactites and stalagmites, 
brought from real caverns, and all arranged in the most natural 
manner ; with a subterranean lake, over which we are taken in 
boats. On this side of the hill is a wide and lovely landscape- 
garden containing several lakes, one of which is quite large. As 
we w^alk along, we see some ordinary swings, and if we sit down 
in one of them, a jet of water sends a fine shower all over us. In 
another place, in passing through an open path, and the sun shining 
brightly above us, we find ourselves in a sudden shower of rain ; 
this is occasioned by our stepping on a concealed spring in the 
path, which immediately surrounds us with thin high jets of water, 
which fall in sparkling drops upon us. There are other tricks of 
this kind, and they must have been very amusing at first to the 
Pallavicinis, although I do not believe they asked the Empress 
Maria Theresa to sit down in one of the squirting swings. The 
large lake is very beautifully arranged, wide in some places and 
narrow in others, with all sorts of curves and bends, and with pretty 
little bridges crossing it at different places. We can get into 
boats, and be rowed all over it, passing under the bridges among 
little islands, and into the shade of the beautiful trees which line 
its banks, some of them drooping their graceful branches into the 
water. In some places the banks are rich with flowers, and every- 
thing is planned to look as natural as possible. In the centre of 
the widest part of the lake stands an exquisite marble temple 



38 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

surrounded by columns, and containing a statue of the goddess 
Diana. Some of you will think this Grecian temple the prettiest 
thine in the whole grrounds. 

We will now leave the villa, with its beauties, its queer sur- 
prises, and its imitations ; and we must also leave the bright, 
bustling, and interesting city of Genoa, with a hope that never 
again will it be obliged to bend the knee to a foreign foe or a 
domestic disturber of its peace and prosperity. 



III. 



LITTLE PISA AND GREAT ROME. 



TEAVING Genoa behind us, we will now pursue our journey into 
I other parts of Italy, and in so doing we shall find that the 
various portions of this charming country differ greatly from 
one another. The reason for this variety in manners, customs, and 
even the appearance of people and cities, is easily understood when 
we remember that the great towns of Italy were once independent 
powers, each governing not only the country around it, but often 
holding sway over large territories in other parts of the world. 
It is only in late years, indeed, that all the various portions of Italy 
have been united into one kingdom. 

We are going to Rome, but on the way we shall stop at Pisa, 
because every boy and girl who has ever studied geography will 
want to know if it is standing yet, and if there is likely to be a 
great tumble and crash while we are there. There is no need of 
mentioning what it is, for every one knows that there is nothing 
in the world so tall, which at the same time leans over so much. 
As the whale is the king of fishes, and the elephant the king of 
beasts, so is it the king of all things which threaten to fall over, 
and do not. 

The scenery between Genoa and Pisa is very beautiful, lying 
along that lovely coast of the Mediterranean called the Riviera di 
Lev ante ; but there are reasons why we shall not enjoy it as much 
as we would like. These reasons are eighty in number, and con- 
sist of tunnels, some long and some short, and all very uncere- 



40 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED, 

monious in the suddenness with which they cut off a view. As 
soon as we sight a queer old stone town, or a little village sur- 
rounded by lemon groves, or a stretch of blue sea at the foot of 
olive-covered mountains, everything is instantly extinguished, and 
we sit in the dark ; then there is another view which is just as 
quickly cut off, and so this amusement goes on for the whole dis- 
tance, which is only a little over a hundred miles. There ig an 
old story, once told to a story-loving king, about an immense 
barn, filled to the top with wheat, and a vast swarm of locusts. 
There was a little hole in the roof, and first one locust went in and 
took a grain of wheat, and then another took a grain, and after 
that another one took a grain, and then another locust took another 
grain, and then the next locust took a grain, and so on for ever so 
long ; until the king jumped up in a passion and cried out : 

"Stop that story ! Take my daughter, and marry her, and let 
us hear no more of those dreadful locusts." 

The tunnels on the road between Genoa and Pisa remind one 
very much of that locust story. 

If the city of Pisa had been built for the convenience of visitors, 
it could not have been better planned. There are four things in 
the town that are worth coming to see, and these all are placed 
close together, in one corner ; so that tourists can stop here for 
a few hours, see the Pisan wonders without the necessity of 
running all over town to find them, and then go on their way. 
Like every one else, then, we will go directly to the northwest 
corner of the city, and the first thing we shall see will be the 
great Leaning Tower of Pisa. Every one of us will admit, I am 
very sure, that it leans quite as much as we expected, and at first 
the girls will not wish to stand on that side of it where they can 
look up and see the tall structure leaning over them ; but, as the 
tower has stood there for over five hundred years without falling, 



LITTLE PISA AND GREAT ROME. 4 1 

we need not be afraid of it now. You all have seen pictures of it, 
and know how it looks, with its many circular galleries, one above 
another, each surrounded by a row of columns. But none of us 
have any idea what a queer thing it is to ascend this tower until 
we try it. Inside, a winding stone staircase leads to the top, and 
although the tower is one hundred and seventy-nine feet high, and 
there are two hundred and ninety-four steps, young legs will not 
hesitate to make the ascent. If there is any trouble, it will be 
with the heads ; but, as the stairway is enclosed on all sides, there 
is no dan- 
ger. The 
steps wind, --s^^^^^-^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^gl^ 

but they 
also incline 
quite a good deal, so that 



one always feels a slight ^^ " 

disposition to slip to one 

side. At each story there ^^ 

is a doorway, so that we 
can go out upon the 

open galleries. Here there is danger, if we are not careful. 
When we are on the upper side of the gallery, it is all very well, 
because the floor slants toward the building, and we can lean 
back and look about us quite comfortably. But when we go around 
to the lower side, we feel as if we were just about to slide off the 
smooth marble floor of the gallery, which is only a few feet wide, 
and that the whole concern would come down after us. Nervous 
people generally keep off the lower sides of the galleries, which 
have no protection except the pillars, and these do not stand very 
close together. This tall edifice was built for a campanile, or bell- 
tower, for the cathedral close by ; and when we reach the top we 




A DISTANT VIEW UF PISA. 



42 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

find the great bells hanging in their places. One of these is an 
enormous fellow weighing six tons, and you will notice that it is 
not hung on the lower or overhanging side of the tower, but well 
over on the other side, so as not to give the building any help in 
toppling over if it should feel more inclined to do so. The view 
from the top is an extended one, showing us a great deal of very 
beautiful Italian country ; but the main object with most of us for 
climbing to the belfry is to have the novel experience of standing 
on a lofty tower which leans thirteen feet from the perpendicular. 
There is a railing up there, and we can safely look over. On the 
overhanging side we can see nothing below us but the ground. 
The bottom of the wall is not only far beneath us, but thirteen feet 
behind us. On the opposite, or higher, side we see the pillars and 
galleries sloping away beneath us. It was on the lower side of 
this belfry that Galileo carried on some of his experiments. There 
could not be a better place from which to hang a long pendulum. 
Many people think that the inclined position of this famous tower 
is due to accident, and that the foundations on one side have sunk. 
But others believe that it was built in this way, and I am inclined 
to agree with them. There are quite a number of leaning towers 
in Italy ; the one in Bologna being a good deal higher than this 
of Pisa, although it leans only four feet. They all were probably 
constructed according to a whimsical architectural fashion of the 
time, for it is not likely that of all the buildings these towers only 
should have leaned over in this way, and that none of them should 
ever have settled so much as to fall. 

The great white marble cathedral close by is seven hundred 
years old. The front, or facade, is celebrated for its beautiful col- 
umns and galleries, and inside there are a great many interesting 
things to see — such as old paintings, mosaics, and carvings, and two 
rows of sixty-eight ancient Greek and Roman columns which sup- 



LITTLE PLSA AND GREAT ROME, 43 

port the roof, and were captured by the Pisans when they had a 
great fleet, and used to conquer other countries and carry away 
spoils. But there is one object here which has been of as much 
value to us, and to every one else in the world, as it ever was to 
the Italians. This is a hanging bronze lamp, suspended by a very 
long chain from the middle of the roof. It was the swinging of 
this very lamp which gave to Galileo the idea of the pendulum. 

Near the cathedral stands the famous baptistery, which is a 
circular building with two rows of columns supporting a beautiful 
dome, the top of which is higher than the great bell-tower. The 
two most notable things inside are the \Yonderful echo, which we 
all shall wish to hear, and a famous pulpit, covered with beautiful 
sculptures by the celebrated Niccolo Pisano, or Nicholas of Pisa 
as we should call him. 

The last one of this quartet of Pisan objects of interest is the 
Campo Santo, or cemetery. This is so entirely different from the 
one at Genoa that we shall take the greater interest in it from 
having seen that. The first was modern, and nearly all the statues 
were dressed in handsome clothes of late fashions ; but here every- 
thing is very old, the great square building with an open space 
in the centre having been finished six hundred years ago. The 
crusaders who went from Pisa to the Holy Land hoped, when they 
died, to be buried in Palestine. But, as the Crusades failed, they 
could not make a Campo Santo there ; but they brought back with 
them fifty-three ship-loads of earth from Mount Calvary, and this 
they placed in their cemetery of Pisa, in order that they might, 
after all, be buried in holy soil. And here they lie now. The inner 
walls of the great quadrangle, which is separated from the central 
space by open arches and columns, are covered with enormous 
paintings, very old and very queer, representing the Triumph of 
Death, the Last Judgment, and subjects of this kind, treated in 



44 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

the odd way which was the fashion among painters centuries ago. 
There are sculptures, ancient sarcophagi, and funeral tablets ranged 
along the walls, and the pavement on which we walk is covered 
with inscriptions showing what persons are buried beneath it. Many 
of these people bear to us, in point of time, the same relation that 
we shall bear to the boys and girls of the twenty-hfth century. 

There is not much else to see in the city of Pisa. It is a quiet 
place, and nearly all the noise is made by the women, who walk 
about in their absurd shoes ; these are slippers formed of a sole, a 
very high and hard heel, and a little place into which to slip the 
toes. Every time a woman makes a step the whole of her foot, 
except the ends of her toes, leaves the shoe, the heel of which comes 
clanking upon the pavement. How they manage to keep their 
shoes on, as they walk about, I cannot imagine ; and the continual 
clinking and clanking of the heels on the stone pavements make a 
very lively racket. 

But there was a time when this city made a good deal more 
noise in the world than that produced by the shoes of its women. 
It was a powerful maritime power; its ships conquered the Sara- 
cens right and left ; it took possession of Corsica, Sardinia, and 
other Mediterranean islands, and owned a large portion of the 
Italian coast, and played a very important part in the Crusades. 
But its power gradually declined, and in 1406 It was actually sold 
to the city of Florence, to which it belonged for a long, long time. 
What thing more humiliating could happen to a city than to be 
sold — houses, men, women, and children — to a master which it 
did not like ! 

There are no tunnels on the road between Pisa and Rome ; but 
then, on the other hand, the scenery is not very interesting. The 
railroad follows very nearly the line of a road built by the Romans 
one hundred and nine years before the Christian era. It passes 



LITTLE PISA AND GREA T ROME. 45 

through the Maremme, or salt-marshes, a vast extent of forest and 
swamp-land. It is so unhealthy in summer time that it is deserted 
by all its inhabitants, who go off to the hills. 

It is a nine-hours' trip from Pisa to Rome — for railroad trains in 
Italy are very slow — and it is dark when we reach that great and 
wonderful city. Not m^any years ago no railroad came into Rome, 
and visitors arrived in carriages and stage-coaches ; but now we roll 
into a louCT alass-roofed station, and outside there are hotel omni- 
buses and carriages waiting for the passengers. The ideas which 
most of us have formed of the city of Romulus and Remus have 
no association with such a thing as a hotel omnibus ; and as we roll 
away through street after street, lighted by occasional lamps, we 
see nothing through the omnibus windows which reminds us at all 
of Julius Caesar or Cicero. But, as we turn a corner into a large, 
well-lighted space, we see something which we know, from pictures 
and descriptions, to belong in Rome, and nowhere else. It is 
the famous fountain of Trevi, built up high against the end of 
a palace, with its wide sparkling pond of water in front of it, its 
marble' sea-horses with their struggling attendants, the great figure 
of Neptune sitting above all, and its many jets of water spouting 
in fountains and flowing in cascades. The fountain itself is not 
very ancient, but the water was conducted from a spring fourteen 
miles away to this spot by our friend Agrippa, who built the Pont 
du Card which we saw near Avignon. Now we feel that we are in 
Rome, in spite of the omnibus. 

We do not intend to see Rome according to any fixed plan 
founded on the study of history, art, or anything else. We shall 
take things as they come, see all we can, and enjoy the life of to-day 
as well as the ruins and the art treasures of bygone centuries. On 
rainy days we shall wander beneath good roofs in the palaces, the 
galleries, the churches of the Middle Ages and the present; and in 



46 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

fair weather we shall walk among the palaces and temples of the 
Csesars, which have no roof at all. 

There are three cities to be seen in Rome : the Rome of to-day, 
the Rome of the Middle Ages, and ancient Rome ; each very dis- 
tinct from the others, and yet all, in a measure, mingled together. 
I lived for some months in a portion of the city where the street 
was broad and well paved, with wide sidewalks ; where the houses 
were tall and new, with handsome shops in many of them ; where 
street-cars ran up and down every few minutes, and most of the 
passers-by wore hats, coats, and dresses just like the people to 
whom I had always been accustomed — and this street continually 
reminded me of some of the new avenues in the upper part of New 
York, But if I went around a corner, and down a broad flight of 
steps, I saw before me a lofty marble column, nearly a hundred and 
fifty feet high, around which winds a long, spiral procession of more 
than two thousand sculptured warriors, with their chariots and 
engines of war, and beneath which lies buried the great Emperor 
Trajan. There is nothing about that to remind any one of New 
York. Rome possesses but one of these broad, wide avenues, with 
horse-cars running through it, and the greater part of the streets 
are as narrow and crooked as it was the fashion in mediaeval times 
to make them. The ancient streets, within the city, are only to be 
seen where excavations have been made, for the Rome of to-day 
stands on many feet of soil which has accumulated over the city of 
the Caesars. 

Nearly every one who comes to Rome wishes to go, as soon 
as possible, to the Colosseum, which is rightfully considered the 
greatest wonder of the city, and one of the greatest wonders of the 
world. Let us leave for a time the street-cars, the shops, and 
the life of modern Rome, and put ourselves in the places of the old 
patricians and plebeians, and try to get an idea of the sort of sport 



LITTLE PISA AND GREAT ROME. 47 

they used to have. We shall find a great part of the massive walls 
of this largest place of amusement ever built still standing. In 
fact, more than one-half of it is gone, but so much remains that we 
can scarcely understand that this is so. The form of the monster 
building is elliptical, and one side still reaches to its original height 
of four stories, and, even in its most broken parts, portions of the 
second story remain. Thus we still see just what sort of building 
it was. It contained seats for eighty-seven thousand spectators. 
All the inhabitants of three cities of the present size of Pisa could 
congregate here, and yet there would be room enough left for the 
people of nine small towns of a thousand citizens each ; and all 
these people would not encroach on the room required for the great 
number of attendants, gladiators, and all sorts of persons necessary 
to carry on the games. It was built in the early part of the Chris- 
tian era, when Rome was still a pagan city. The opening perform- 
ance was a grand one, lasting one hundred days, and I suppose that 
every Rornan — man, woman, and child — came to the Colosseum 
on at least one of these days, and very many of them probably 
attended every day. The greater part of the entertainment con- 
sisted of gladiatorial combats, in which these men fought not only 
each other, but wild beasts. I do not know how many gladiators 
lost their lives during the inauguration of the new building, but 
more than five thousand wild animals were killed in the hundred 
days. At that time hunters were always at work in Africa and 
Asia catching wild animals for the Colosseum. Lions, tigers and 
leopards, elephants, giraffes, and, after a time, even rhinoceroses 
were brought here to be foueht and killed. Wild animals were 
much more plentiful then than they are now, when it is a very 
expensive and difficult thing to get up even a small menagerie. 
The arena where the games were held was a vast smooth space, 
surrounded by the great galleries, which rose in four tiers above it, 



48 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

the top being open to the sky. This space was temporarily planted 
by one of the emperors with hundreds of trees, so as to resemble a 
small forest, and into this were let loose great numbers of deer, 
antelopes, hares, and game of that kind; and. then the spectators 
were allowed to go down into the arena with their bows, arrows, 
and spears, to hunt the animals. At other times, the whole of the 
arena was flooded with water so as to make it into a lake, upon which 
were launched ships filled with soldiers, and naval contests took 
place. The Romans had grander ideas of amusements than any 
people before or since, and they stopped at no expense or trouble 
when they wished to organize a great show. Most of their enter- 
tainments were of a very cruel character, and we all know how 
thousands of Christian martyrs were sacrificed in this arena, and 
how thousands of gladiators, who fought one another and wild 
beasts, perished here simply to amuse the people. 

When we enter upon this open arena, we see that nearly half 
of it has been excavated, exposing a great number of walls and 
arches, down into which we can look, as into deep cellars. These 
extend under the whole of the arena, and were not only used as 
passage-ways for men and wild beasts, but were necessary for the 
working of the machinery, the trap-doors, and other contrivances 
used in the games. In some places we can see the grooves in 
which a sort of elevator was worked. The savage beasts were 
driven through a narrow alley into the box of this elevator, then 
they were suddenly shot up out of a trap-door into the open air, 
where there was always something ready for them to do. In 
other places there are inclined planes, up which the animals came, 
and iron bars, still stout and strong, behind which they stood 
glaring until it was time for them to come out. There were great 
entrances for the emperor and the nobles ; and all around the 
outside there were eighty archways, through which the people 



LITTLE PISA AND GREAT ROME. 49 

came in. Each of these entrances was numbered, so that the 
people could easily find their way to the different portions of the 
galleries to which they had tickets. We can still plainly see 
the numbers from twenty-three to fifty-four. Many of the ancient 
staircases leading to the galleries yet exist, though they are very 
much worn and broken, and are not now used ; but some of them 
have been restored to very nearly their former appearance, so that 
we can go up to the highest gallery. The poorer people sat in 
the topmost row, and, long before we are up there, we shall feel 
sure that this class of spectators was willing to do a great deal of 
hard climbing for the sake of seeing the shows. The stairways 
in use among the Romans had very high steps, much higher than 
those in use in our day, and the restorations have been made as 
much like the old stairs as possible. Many of us will be surprised 
not to find the Colosseum a mass of ruins, encumbered with the 
rubbish, and overgrown with vines and the moss of ages. Instead 
of this, everything is in excellent order ; the arena, where it has 
not been dug away, is smooth and clean, and the pieces of marble 
and broken columns are piled up neatly about the sides ; the 
galleries are all clear and open to visitors, and there are railings 
where the parapets have been broken. We can fearlessly walk 
over all the parts that are left standing, and can pass through the 
great vaulted passages which extend behind the long tiers of seats, 
and then we can go out upon the open galleries. 

The Colosseum does not owe its present state of partial ruin to 
the ravages of time. It was built to stand for very many centuries. 
In the Middle Ages it was used as a fortress, and was still strong 
and in comparatively good order in the beginning of the four- 
teenth century. Then the nobles of Rome began to tear it down 
and to use it as building material for their palaces. Some of the 
finest edifices in the city are built with stones taken from the poor 



50 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

old Colosseum, to which people came for building material just as 
if it had been a stone quarry. This went on until 1740, when 
Pope Benedict XIV. put a stop to it ; and since then successive 
popes have taken a great deal of care of the famous ruins, put- 
ting up immense buttresses of brick-work, wherever it was neces- 
sary, to support the broken parts of the walls. Fortunately, 
the greater part of the demolition has been done on one side, 
but nearly all the marble with which the stone-work was faced is 
gone. 

We have much greater privileges, as we ramble about, than the 
Roman populace ever had. We can, if we like, go down into the 
passages and curious places under the buildings, where the old- 
time spectators were not allowed to go ; we can walk around the 
first gallery, which was occupied by the senators and people of 
high degree ; and we can even enter the place of the emperor's 
box, which certainly no Roman plebeians occupied. This is at one 
end of the great oval, and commands a fine view of the open space. 
The galleries were arranged so that every one could see very well, 
but the fighting men and animals must have seemed very small to 
the people on the topmost rows. As we wander about the lonely 
galleries and passages, we see many things that seem to bring the 
days of pagan Rome very near to us. Here are some loose bricks, 
larger and thinner than ours, and of a yellowish color : they look 
almost as good as new, and on one side are stamped the initials of 
the maker, as clean and sharp as if they had been made yesterday ; 
here are great square holes, down which the dust used to be swept 
after the performances were over ; and here are many channels 
and openings ingeniously arranged to carry off the rain-water — all 
of which have a very recent look. On the lower floor we go 
through the doorways which lead into the arena, and tread upon 
marble slabs worn by the feet of generations of gladiators, as well 



LITTLE PISA AND GREAT ROME. 51 

as of Christians and other prisoners, who stepped out here for 
their last fight. Under the emperor's box is a passage made for 
the entrance of the elephants, and it is interesting to see the great 
beams which supported this floor ; these are each formed of enor- 
mous stones, not fastened together in any way, but supporting 
each other by their wedge -like shape, and extending across the 
space in a horizontal beam, which five Jumbos, joined in one. 
could not break down. 

Among the most interesting relics of Roman handiwork to be 
found here are the Iron bars, as large as the rails on our railroads, 
and fifteen or tw^enty feet long, with which the immense stones In 
the lower part of the building were bound together. These are 
not old and rusty, but in good condition, with the spikes which 
held the ends together still firmly wedged in where they were 
driven eighteen hundred years ago, and the marks of the hammers 
plainly to be seen on the edges of the tough Iron. All around the 
outside of the walls we see numerous holes ; these are the places 
from which many of these iron rods were taken out in the Middle 
Ages, when iron, especially such good wrought Iron as this, was In 
great demand. 

But we must not spend too much time In this grand old place, 
because, interesting as it Is, there is so much more for us to see. 
Nearly all visitors come to see the Colosseum by moonlight, If 
there happens to be a full moon while they are in Rome, and we 
may do the same if we are careful ; but we must remember the 
fate of Daisy Miller, in Mr. Henry James's story, and the fate of 
a great many other young people who are not In stories. Rome, 
especially the ruined parts of it, is very unhealthy after night- 
fall. 

Rome is still surrounded by the great wall built by the 
Emperor Aurelian, sixteen hundred years ago. It is fourteen 



52 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

miles long, fifty-five feet high, and there are now twelve gates in 
it. The present city is a large one, containing about two hundred 
and fifty thousand people, but it is not the great city it used to be. 
About two-thirds of the space enclosed by the walls is now covered 
by gardens, vineyards, and the ruins of the temples, palaces, and 
other grand edifices of ancient Rome. The River Tiber runs 
through the city, and is crossed by seven bridges. 

One of the most lively parts of Rome is the Piazza di Spagna, 
which is a large open space, situated in what is called the 
Stranger's Quarter, because near it are many of the hotels fre- 
quented by visitors. Streets lined with shops lead into this 
piazza ; the middle of the space is crowded with carriages for hire 
(sixteen cents for a single drive for two persons) ; and on one side 
rises the famous Spanish Stairs. This is a series of one hundred 
and twenty-five stone steps, wide enough at the bottom for sixty 
or seventy boys and girls to go up abreast, and separating grace- 
fully to the right and left at several platforms. These lead up 
to the celebrated Pincian Hill, and at the top of the stairs is the 
picturesque church of Trinita de Monti. On bright afternoons a 
lot of very queer people, who look as if they had been taken out 
of pictures, are to be seen sitting and standing on the steps of this 
great staircase. Many of them are children, and some are very 
old people. The boys wear bright-colored jackets, knee-breeches, 
and long stockings, and shoes made, each, of a square piece of 
sheep-skin, with holes in the edges by which it is laced to the foot 
by long colored strings which are crossed many times around the 
ankles ; they wear very wide hats with peaked crowns, and often 
little colored waistcoats. The girls wear shoes like the boys, 
bright-colored skirts and bodices, gay striped aprons, and a head- 
dress composed of a flat, wide strip of white cloth covering the top 
of the head, and hanCTino- far down behind. , The women are 



LITTLE PISA AND GREAT ROME. 



53 



dressed very much the same way, in red, blue, yellow, and white. 
The men, some of whom have splendid white beards, are very fond 
of long cloaks with green linings, feathers in their hats, and bright 
sashes ; and many of them wear sheep-skin breeches, with the 
wool outside. These people have not come out of pictures, but 
they all wish to go into them. They are artists' models, and sit 
here waiting for some painter to come along and take them to his 




ON THE PINCIAN HILL. 



studio, where he may put them and their fanciful costumes into a 
picture. They are often very handsome, but they look better at 
a distance than when we are near them, for they are generally 
not quite as clean as a fresh-blown rose ; but, scattered over the 
Spanish Stairs in the bright sunlight, they make a very pleasing 



54 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

picture. The children occupy their spare time in selHng flowers, 
and some of the httle girls will never leave you until you have 
bought a tiny bunch of pansies or violets, which you can have for 
almost anything you choose to give for it. If we are fortunate, 
we may see a company of these models dancing on one of the 
broad platforms of the stairs. One of them plays a tambourine, 
and the others dance gayly to its lively taps ; sometimes a boy and 
girl slip in among the others, and these two look prettier than all 
the others, although they run great risk of being crushed by their 
larger companions. There are many artists in Rome, because 
there is so very much here that is worth painting ; and conse- 
quently there is a class of persons who do nothing else but sit or 
stand as models. 

Many of these long stairways are to be found in the streets of 
Rome, for the city is built upon hills, as we all know, and these 
flights of steps make short cuts for foot-passengers, while vehicles 
have often to go a long way around. 

From the top of the Pincian Hill, a portion of which is laid 
out as a pleasure-ground, we have a view of a large part of the 
city, and, far off in the distance, we see a great dome rising against 
the sky. This is the dome of St. Peter's, the largest church in 
the world ; and now we will go down into the piazza, take a car- 
riage, and drive there. Most of us have seen pictures of the 
church, and are not surprised at the magnificent square in front of 
it, and the great pile of buildings on one side, called the Vatican, 
where the Pope lives. This palace contains eleven thousand halls 
and apartments, and there is a great deal in it that we must see, 
but we will go there some other time. I think that most of us will 
find the interior of St. Peter's even larger than we expected ; and, 
indeed, it is so vast that it takes some time to understand how 
big it is. The great central space, or nave, is large enough for a 



LITTLE PISA AND GREAT ROME. 55 

public square or parade ground, while in the aisles on each side 
of it, in the various chapels, in the transepts, and in the choir or 
chancel, there is room enough for seven or eight ordinary city 
congregations to assemble without interfering with one another. 
There are pictures and statues, grand altars, gorgeous marbles, 
and a vast expanse of mosaic work in the dome and other places. 
But, after we have seen all these, the size of the church will still 
remain its most interesting feature. The interior is so big that it 
has an atmosphere of its own, and at all seasons the temperature 
remains about the same. If you enter the church in the summer 
time, you will find it pleasantly cool ; and if you come in the winter 
time, it will be warm and comfortable. As a rule, the churches of 
Italy are cold and damp at all times, but this is not the case with 
St. Peter's. In regard to its permanent temperature, it resem- 
bles the Mammoth Cave of Kentucky. It ought to be a large 
church, for it took one hundred and seventy-six years to build 
it ; and, although in that period the workmen took one good rest 
of fifty years, the building went on quite steadily the rest of the 
time. 

An excellent way to get an idea of the size of St. Peter's is to 
walk around the outside of the church. The entrances to some of 
the great art galleries of the Vatican are only to be reached by 
going around the back of St. Peter's ; and, as the cabmen of Rome 
do not like to drive around there, our drivers will probably put us 
down at the front of the church, if they think we do not know any 
better, and tell us they cannot go any farther, and that all we have 
to do is to just step around the building and we shall easily find 
the doors of the gallery. But if we do this we shall step, and step, 
and step, under archways and through courtyards, and over an 
open square, and along a street, all the time walking upon small 
rough paving-stones, until we think there is no end to the circum- 



56 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

ference of St. Peter's. It Is like walking around a good-sized 
village ; and the next time we come, we will make the drivers take 
us all the way to the door of the galleries, or they shall go with- 
out their fares. 

If we happen to be at the church on Thursday morning, when 
the public is allowed to ascend to the roof and dome (or, if we 
have a written permission, any day will do), we will all make this 
ascent. A long series of very easy steps takes us to the roof, 
which is of great extent, and has on it small domes, and also houses 
in which workmen and other persons employed in the church have 
their homes. Above this roof the great dome rises to the immense 
height of three hundred and eight feet. Around the outside of it 
we see strong iron bands which were put there a hundred years 
ago, when it was feared that the dome might be cracked by its own 
enormous weight. There is an inner and an outer dome, and, 
between these, winding galleries and staircases, very hard on the 
legs, lead to the top, which is called the Lantern, where we can go 
out on the gallery and have a fine view of the country all around^ 
Those of you who choose can go up some very narrow iron steps, 
only wide enough for one person at a time, and enter the hollow 
copper ball at the very top of everything. When we look at this 
ball from the ground, it seems about the size of a big foot-ball, but 
it is large enough to hold sixteen persons at once. On our way 
down, before we reach the roof, we will step upon an inside gallery 
and look down into the church ; and, as we see the little mites of 
people walking about on the marble floor so far beneath us, we 
may begin to wonder — -that is to say, some of us — if those iron 
bands around the outside of the dome are really very strong ; for 
if they should give way while we are up there — But, no matter, 
we will go down now. 

In returning from St, Peter's, we pass an immense round build- 



LITTLE PISA AND GREAT ROME. 



57 



ing, like a fortress, which is now called the Castle of San Angelo, 
but was originally known as Hadrian's tomb. It was built by the 
Emperor Hadrian in the second century as a burial-place for him- 
self and his successors. It is now used by the Italian Government 
as a barracks and military prison. For hundreds of years it was 
occupied as a fortress. An old soldier will take us about and 
show us everything. But, just as we are about to start on our 




THE CASTLE OF SAN ANGELO, FROM THE TIBER. — ST. PETER's IN THE DISTANCE. 



rounds, we are obliged to wait while a large body of soldiers march 
out ; platoon after platoon, knapsack and gun on shoulder, they 
march by, tramp, tramp, until we are tired of seeing them. At last 
they all are out, and then we go through the great building, with 
its many courts, staircases, and rooms. In the very centre is the 



58 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

stone cell which was Hadrian's tomb. But he is not there now \ 
long ago his body and his sarcophagus were removed, and the place 
for nine hundred years has been the abode of the living, and not 
of the dead. What was built for a pagan tomb has been used for 
a citadel by every power which has since ruled Rome. When it 
was a tomb, the outside was covered with marble and statuary ; 
now it is only a tower of brick. 



IV. . 

GREAT ROME AGAIN. 

IN the beginning of our visit to Rome I remarked that the 
ancient city is now many feet below the level of the present 
streets. For centuries upon centuries, dust and rubbish of 
various kinds have gradually accumulated and formed a soil which 
has thus slowly piled itself upon old Rome, covering it all out 
of sight, excepting those portions of the ruins which were tall 
enough to keep above this rising tide of earth. In some parts of 
the city we may yet see the ruins of temples with the lower parts 
of the porticos embedded deeply in the soil, and wherever these 
old buildings have been excavated, the entrances and lower floors 
are beneath the level of the streets, so that we have to go down to 
them by steps. Thus we must descend to reach the arena of the 
Colosseum, the whole lower part of this great building having 
been covered up in this way. This is the reason why we can still 
see, near the ground, the great iron bars which held the stones 
together. In the Middle Ages, when people used to come and 
take away this iron-work, all the bars which now remain were cov- 
ered up, and thus protected, while of those in the exposed por- 
tions of the walls not one is left. This covering up of old Rome 
is a great disadvantage in some respects, for it has made necessary 
a vast deal of work and expense in excavating the ruins ; but, on 
the other hand, it has, been of great advantage in saving and pro- 
tecting until modern times, not only portions of buildings, but 
great numbers of valuable statues, mosaics, and other works of 



6o PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

art. In fact, nearly all the ancient Roman sculptures which we see 
in the galleries were preserved in this way, and it is very fortunate 
for us that they were ; for, in the mediaeval times, every piece of 
ancient marble that could be found, no matter how beautifully it 
was sculptured, was either used for building or burned for lime. 
It is believed that some of the most valuable statues of antiquity 
were thus used to make mortar. Now the work of excavation is 
going on all the time ; the greatest care is taken of the ruins that 
are thus exposed to view; and every statue that is found, and even 
every broken-off hand or foot, is looked upon as a treasure. If I 
could believe that the people of the twenty-fifth century would 
improve as much on us as we have improved upon the people of 
the Middle Ages, I should almost be sorry that I was born so 
soon. 

At some distance from the modern portion of the city, and near 
the river, is a rounded green hill, vv'hich is called Monte Testaccio. 
This hill is a very good example of how the surface of the ground 
can be gradually raised in the course of centuries. It is one 
hundred and si;cty-four feet in height. It stands near the place 
where the ancient Roman wharves were situated, at which the 
ships bringing large jars and other pottery from Spain and Africa 
unloaded. Such jars as were broken were thrown or piled up 
here ; and it was said that, at the end of the second century, the 
mound was about eighty feet high. The fragments of these jars 
and of other pottery that was landed here have thus gradually 
formed a little mountain as high as the top of a tall church-steeple. 
It has been cut into in many places and found everywhere to con- 
sist of the same material, and so it may be said to be the largest 
object in the world that is formed of earthenware. It is long since 
any broken pottery has been added to the pile, and it is now cov- 
ered over with soil, on which the grass grows green and luxuriant. 



GREAT ROME AGAIN. 6i 

There is a church in Rome, called San Clemente, which is, in 
some respects, an exceedingly curious edifice. Here we find four 
buildings, one on top of another. The uppermost is the present 
church, built in the year 1108, and we shall see some interesting 
decorations of old-fashioned mosaic work on its walls and ceilings. 
But we shall not spend much time here, for there is another church 
below this, and under the surface of the ground, which we very 
much wish to see. This is a church of the early Christians, which 
was first mentioned in the year 392. During one of the wars of 
the Middle Ages, the upper part of this building was entirely 
destroyed and the rest much damaged ; and about twenty-four 
years afterward the present church was built over it, and partly on 
its walls. A stairway now leads down into this old church, and we 
can wander about the nave and aisles in which the early Christians 
used to worship. On the walls are a number of fresco paintings, 
representing Bible scenes, and instances in the life of St. Clement, 
for whom the church was named. There are also other subjects, 
and some of these paintings are still in a very good condition, so 
that it is quite easy to see what they represent. In order that 
there shall be no mistake, the names of some of the persons are 
painted beneath them. ^ Of course all the windows are blocked up 
now, and the man who takes us down carries a light ; but on 
certain days this ancient church is illuminated with many candles, 
and then it is crowded with visitors. Below this church are the 
remains of Roman buildings of the time of the emperors, on the 
foundations of which the old Christian edifice was built. Three 
rooms have been excavated here, and a stairway leads down to 
them, but they are very wet and unpleasant. Still below these are 
great walls belonging to a building of the time of the Roman 
republic. This edifice was of massive stone, and on its walls 
were erected the later Roman buildings, which are of brick. 



62 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

When that lower edifice, now Hke the ground floor of a three- 
story cellar, was in use, it was, of course, on the surface of the 
ground. 

There are, no doubt, many persons now living in Rome who have 
beneath them the residence of some gentleman of the Middle Ages, 
under which, perhaps, is the home of a Roman family of the time 
of the Caesars ; and this may have been built upon the foundations 
of another Roman house, which was considered a good place to live 
in some five or six hundred years before. It must be a very satis- 
factory thing, when one is going to build a house, to find beneath 
the ground some good substantial walls which will make excellent 
foundations. It very often happens that these remains of ancient 
buildings are built of larger stones, and are firmer and more solid 
than the houses which are erected upon them. There is another 
side, however, to this matter, and the remains of old buildings are 
frequently very much in the way of those who wish to erect new 
houses, for it does not always occur that the ancient walls are in 
the right places, or of a suitable kind, to serve as foundations for 
the modern building. Then they have to be dug up and taken out, 
which is a great labor. There is a handsome American church in 
Rome ; for as great numbers of our coun|ry people visit that city 
every winter, and a good many live there, it is considered desirable 
for us to have a church of our own. This was built in a place 
which used to be one of the most populous parts of ancient Rome, 
and the work was made very expensive by the dififiiculty of getting 
rid of portions of walls, arches, rooms, and vaults which these 
Romans had left behind them, never thinking that in the course of 
ages there might be such people as Americans who would wish to 
build a church here. 

I may remark here, that wherever we go in Europe we shall 
find ourselves called Americans, although this term would apply just 



GREAT ROME AGAIN. 63 



as well to Canadians, Mexicans, or the inhabitants of Nicaragua. 
The fact is, that the name of our country cannot very well be 
applied to its citizens. To speak of us properly, we should be 
called United-States-of-Americans; but this is too long a title, 
and in Europe the term Americans is generally applied to the 
people of the United States, and to no others. It is not well 
to have too much name. I used to own a dog whose whole 
name was Fax Mentis Incendium GloricB, but I always called him 
''Fax." 

I have said that Rome offers wonderful attractions and advan- 
tages to artists, but we shall find that it offers just as much to those 
who love art, but are not artists. The city is crowded, so to speak, 
with collections of painting and statuary, among which are to be 
found some of the greatest works of the kind in the world. When 
we begin to visit the principal galleries, some of which are in pri- 
vate palaces, and some in public buildings, we shall think that they 
exist everywhere in the city. Our first art expedition will be made 
to the Vatican, because that is so grand and interesting a building 
in itself, and because it contains the most important. art treasures 
in Rome. x\mong these are the famous Sistine Chapel, which owes 
its reputation to the wonderful frescos by Michael Angelo ; the 
Stanze, or rooms, of Raphael, which contain a great many frescos 
by this great master ; Raphael's Loggia, a long gallery with a glass 
front, the ceiling of which is adorned with frescos, which are some- 
times called Raphael's Bible, as they consist of scenes from the 
Old and New Testaments. Then there is the gallery of pictures, 
most of them' by great masters ; and the department of sculpture, 
consisting of many halls and galleries filled with an almost endless 
collection of statues, sarcophagi, bas-reliefs, and other works of the 
greatest ancient sculptors. 

To visit these collections, which alone are worth a trip to 



64 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

Europe, we must have printed permits, which are very easily 
obtained. 

To reach the Sistine Chapel, the picture galleries, and Raphael's 
rooms, we must present ourselves at the bronze gates, the principal 
entrance to the Vatican, situated to the right of the great square 
in front of St. Peter's. The Vatican, with its galleries and grounds, 
together with St. Peter's and some other buildings, belongs exclu- 
sively to the Pope, who exercises here a sovereignty entirely dis- 
tinct and separate from that of the king of Italy, who now includes 
the rest of Rome in his dominions. The Pope has his own soldiers, 
who are not very man}^ and who generally act as guards to the 
various parts of the Vatican, Behind the bronze doors, which are 
enormous barred gates, we shall see some of these soldiers, one of 
whom will ask us for owr permessos,ox permits. I am sure you never 
beheld military gentlemen like them before. They are called the 
Swiss Guard, and are dressed in a uniform of flowing tunic and 
breeches, formed of broad perpendicular stripes of black, red, and 
3^ellow, long stockings striped in black and yellow ; and on state 
occasions they wear brass helmets with heavy white plumes, and 
carry halberds, or pikes with axe-heads at the ends. The officers' 
dress, of the same design, is of bright silk, and they make a dazzling 
appearance. These men appear as if they belonged to the Middle 
Ages and had nothing to do with our modern times ; and they 
very properly seem so, for their uniform was designed by Michael 
Angelo not long after the discovery of America, and their costume 
has never been changed. It used to be the custom of many of the 
potentates of Europe to have personal guards composed of Swiss 
soldiers, as they were considered more honest and trustworthy than 
any others. In Walter Scott's " Quentin Durward" you will learn 
a great deal about the Swiss guards of France. In Paris the 
porter at the doors of great houses is still often called " The 



GREAT ROME AGAIN. 65 

Swiss," although he is almost always a Frenchman. And these 
guards of the Pope are now Italians, but they still retain the old 
name. 

Rome is full of the greatest things in the world, and I believe 
that the marble staircase of the Vatican which now extends itself 
before us, straight on and up in a gentle slope to such a distance 
that the people at the top seem dwarfed, as if they were at the 
end of some long avenue of trees, if not the greatest straight 
flight of steps in the world, is certainly one of them. It is called 
the Scala Regia, or royal stairway, and up it we go. The steps 
are not very high, but very broad, which is the case in most 
of the Roman palaces, and this makes the ascent easier ; but 
when we come to the top we shall find that the business of going* 
upstairs is by no means at an end. When we have found stair- 
way after stairway, and have gone up and up and up to the 
various places we have come to see, we shall understand what" 
it is to be in a building ten stories high, and without an 
elevator. 

As I have said before, the entrance to the sculpture galler- 
ies is reached by going around St. Peter's Church. There are 
many of these galleries filled with the great works of Greece 
and Rome, and here we shall find the originals of many world- 
famous statues with which we are all familiar from engravings 
and casts, such as the Apollo Belvidere, the Laocoon, and the 
beautiful Mercury, formerly known as Antinous. The magnificent 
marble halls, the mosaic pavements, and the grand collection of 
sculpture to be seen here will be a delight and surprise to us, 
no matter how much we may have read or heard about them 
before. 

In this part of the building there is also the vast library of the 
Vatican, in which there are a great many interesting things to be 
5 



66 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

seen besides books, such as superb and costly presents made to 
different popes by European sovereigns. 

Although we are in the Pope's house, we shall not see him, for 
the public is not allowed to enter his private apartments and 
beautiful grounds. 

Another great collection of sculpture we shall find at the 
Capitoline Museum, a building on the Capitol Hill, once the seat 
of the ancient Roman government. In this collection is the famous 
Dying Gladiator, or, as it should be called, the Dying Gaul ; and 
the Faun of Praxiteles, a beautiful statue of a youth, which is well 
known to all of us who have read Hawthorne's story of " The 
Marble Faun." In this Capitoline Museum and in a building 
opposite, called the Conservatori, there are a great many antique 
statues and sculptures, and among them, in the last-named building, 
is one which I am sure my young companions will find very inter- 
esting. It is the tombstone of a boy named O. Sulpicius Maximus, 
who died at the age of eleven and a half, in consequence of having 
worked too hard at school. I do not believe that many of my 
young readers are likely to die from this cause, but if any of them 
should feel inclined to study too hard and play too little, they 
might get some useful hints from this tombstone. Young Q. Sul- 
picius was engaged in a competition with fifty-two other scholars 
in writing Greek verses, and succeeded in excelling them all. It 
would, however, have been better for him personally if he had not 
done so well, for his efforts killed him, and all he gained was fame. 
This has been very lasting, for his achievements are related upon 
this tombstone, and all of us who are learned enough may read 
quotations from his Greek verses, which are inscribed upon the 
marble, and gaze upon the statuette of the boy himself, no doubt 
a very good portrait. 

In the central square of the Capitol, which is surrounded on 



GREAT ROME AGAIN. 



67 



three sides by buildings, stands a very large bronze statue of 
Marcus Aurelius, once emperor of Rome, mounted on a spirited 
horse. This is the only equestrian statue which has been preserved 




■!5-, 2,nV,na 



"■* CanifvUvt^nM-'^iW 



A BIRD S-EYE VIEW OF A PART OF ROME. 



in a perfect condition out of the many that decorated ancient 
Rome. Michael Angelo, who designed the buildings which at 
present stand on this hill, was very fond of this statue, and 
especially admired the horse. One day, while he was studying it, 



68 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

he forgot that it was not alive, and wishing to see it in another 
position, he cried out, " Cam I " which means, Go on. After looking 
at this horse for some time, one might easily imagine that a shout 
or a touch of a whip would make it jump. 

A long inclined plane, covered with an asphalt pavement, leads 
down to the street below ; and near the top of this incline is a 
large iron cage, in which some live wolves are always kept. This 
is In memory of the ancient wolf who was good enough to take 
care of Romulus and Remus when there was nobody else to do it. 
This wolf is still considered as a Roman emblem ; pictures and 
carvings of it are seen on many buildings and public places, and it 
is even stamped on pats of butter. It is a great pity, from an 
artistic point of view, that some more graceful creature did not 
adopt the little babies who afterward founded the city. Not far 
from here, on the Palatine Hill, is still shown a cave which is 
said to be the identical den in which the old wolf established her 
little orphan-asylum. In the course of our rambles we shall pass 
this, and those who choose may go in. 

In nearly all the palaces and villas of the nobles in and about 
Rome there are collections of paintings and sculptures, some of 
them very large and filling many halls and rooms. We shall try 
to visit as many of these as we can, for nearly every one of them 
contains some famous pieces of antique sculpture or some of the 
great paintings of the masters of the Middle Ages. In one of 
these, the Spada palace, there stands, in an outer hall, a tall statue 
of the Roman general Pompey, which is believed to be the very 
statue at the feet of which Julius Caesar was assassinated by Brutus 
and the other conspirators. In the Rosplgllosi gallery is Guido's 
famous Aurora, which is a fresco covering nearly all the celling of 
a large roohi. We all are familiar with engravings and copies of 
this picture, but we shall find it rather difficult to look as long as 



GREAT ROME AGAIN. , 69 



we wish at the original without making our necks ache by bend- 
ing our heads backward as we gaze at the ceiHng. To obviate 
this obstacle to the enjoyment of the picture, a looking-glass is 
fixed upon the table in such a way that visitors can look down into 
it and see the perfect reflection of the beautiful fresco above their 
heads. Many of the churches, too, contain famous works, and 
among these we shall certainly not omit San Pietro in Vincoli, 
where sits Michael Angelo's majestic and awful statue of Moses. 
No end of statues, no end of paintings, no end of grand palaces 
full of the works of ancient and modern artists, shall we see while 
we are in Rome. The great difficulty will be not to allow our 
desire to enjoy beautiful things to tire us out. Visitors often 
overtax their strength ; but we shall be prudent, and not work too 
hard in the pursuit of pleasure. 

The burying-places of Rome are among its most curious sights. 
We have seen one of these, the tomb of Hadrian, which was an 
enormous edifice built for the last resting-place of one man and a 
few of his family ; and now we shall visit a small building which 
contained the remains of quite a congregation of people. This is 
situated near one of the city gates, in a place now occupied by vine- 
yards, and is called a columbarhim. It is a small square house, of 
stone, the greater part underground, and contains but one room, into 
which we descend by a very steep and very narrow flight of stairs. 
The ancient Romans very often burned the bodies of deceased 
persons, and in this place they kept the little urns, or caskets, which 
contained the ashes. All around the four walls of the room, and in 
a large square pillar of masonry in the centre, are little recesses, 
like pigeon-holes ; and this resemblance is the reason for the name, 
£olu'}nbarium, meaning pigeon-house. These holes are each about 
a foot square,, and deep enough to hold from two to four of the 
earthen pots or stone boxes in which the ashes were kept ; and 



70 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

this building contained six hundred of these urns. Each pigeon- 
hole was owned by a family, whose name we can see inscribed on 
a marble tablet over the opening. Sometimes it is stated who is 
buried inside, and on some of them various particulars are given, 
such as when and how the little vaults were bought. It is very curi- 
ous and interesting to walk about this room and read the names and 
ages of persons who were thus conveniently buried some eighteen 
centuries ago. Many of the jars and boxes still remain, and some 
of them contain fragments and cinders. There are other cohun- 
baria in Rome, but this is the best, and the only one we need visit. 

Just outside the Porta Maggiore, one of the principal gates of 
the city, is a very odd specimen of a burial-place which we all shall 
wish to see. It is the tomb of a baker, built by himself in the days 
of the Roman republic, some time before the beginning of the 
Christian era. It is a stone edifice, as large as a little house, and 
constructed in the form of a baker's oven. This ancient maker of 
bread, whose name was Marcus Vergilius Eurysaces, was probably 
a very good baker, and he did not wish this fact forgotten after 
his death. All around his tomb are small sculptured figures 
representing bakers attending to different parts of their business, 
some grinding grain, others kneading and making up loaves of 
bread, and others baking it. There is also on it an inscription in 
Latin, stating that this is the monument of the said Eurysaces, and 
that he was not only a purveyor of bread, but a city official. In 
order that no one should miss seeing this inscription, it is repeated 
on several sides of the monument. The desire for fame on the 
part of the builder of this oven-tomb has surely been gratified, for 
his monument has stood about two thousand years, and I have no 
doubt that the good baker is still inside of it. 

The Roman catacombs are very famous, and we all know that 
they are a vast collection of subterranean passages and apartments 



GREAT ROME AGAIN. 7 1 

running in many directions underground, some far under the others, 
and forming labyrinths in which any one would certainly be lost 
who should venture into them without a guide. These are situated 
in the vast plain which surrounds Rome, and is called the Cam- 
pagna ; and some of these catacombs are said to extend so far that 
parts of them are under the city. They were the burial-places of 
the early Christians, and in them they also used to hold religious 
services, when they were so persecuted that they could not worship 
openly. We shall visit the catacomb of Callistus, which is the 
largest one ; and to reach it we go out over the famous Appian 
Way, a great military road built by the Romans, where for part of 
the distance our carriage wheels roll over the very stones on which 
the Roman chariots used to be driven ; and as these chariots had no 
springs, their occupants must have been greatly jolted, although the 
road is even now as good as many modern paved streets. There is 
a line of heavy curbstones on each side, and the narrowness of the 
road and the marks of the ancient wheels upon the stones show how 
much wider are our modern vehicles than were the chariots of old. 
A drive out on this Appian Way must have been a melancholy 
pleasure to the ancient Romans, for it was lined on each side by 
miles of tombs, many of them very handsome edifices, like small 
castles and temples, with pillars and statuary. Remains of these 
tombs are still seen on each side of the road, and portions of some 
of them are in good preservation ; and on marble slabs, and over 
little porticos, we can read the names of man)^ persons who were 
buried here. We can go out for miles on this road, which was made 
three hundred years before Christ, and we shall find the Campagna 
very interesting, with its vast expanse of green pastures, on which 
we see herds of the fine Roman oxen, with their enormous horns, 
sometimes nearly a yard long ; herdsmen wandering about with 
their flocks of sheep and goats at their heels ; gentle hills covered 



72 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

with wild flowers ; and over all, stretching far away, long lines of 
stone arches, the remains of ancient Roman aqueducts, some of 
which are in such good condition that they are still used to bring 
water to the city. 

But the catacombs we are to visit are but little more than a 
mile from the city walls, and we soon reach them. At a small 
building we find guides, who give each' one of us a lighted taper. 
Then we form in line, and go down a long flight of stone steps to 
the doleful depths of this underground labyrinth. We find our- 
selves at first in a long passage, a little higher than our heads, and 
so narrow that we can touch each side of it by stretching out our 
arms. It is simply dug out of the soft rock and earth, and in each 
of its walls are cavities, one above the other, in which once rested 
the bodies of the early Christians. Some of these were in marble 
boxes, or sarcophagi, and others more rudely buried. But very 
few of them are here now. Many of the sculptured marbles have 
been taken to the Roman museums, and thousands of the bones of 
the early Christians have been carried away as relics, and buried 
in churches all over Europe. In a line, each holding his pale 
light, we follow our guides through the long passages of this 
dreary place. Occasionally, as I have said, are little chambers and 
chapels; but the catacombs consist, for the most part, of these 
narrow earth corridors, absolutely pitch-dark, and turning and 
winding in every imaginable way. It is necessary that those at 
the end of our line should not lag behind, for if they were to lose 
sight of the main body they would never, of themselves, be able to 
find it again. One passage looks just like another, and there are 
so many of them to the right and the left, that it would be impos- 
sible for an inexperienced person to know when he should go 
ahead and when he should turn. But we all keep together, and 
after a long underground walk we at last come out into the day- 



GREAT ROME AGAIN. 73 

light, in a spot at some distance from that where we went in. We 
have gone through but a small part of these great catacombs, but 
it has been quite enough. 

There are other kinds of burial-places in Rome, but we shall 
visit no more of them, though they give us ideas in regard to the 
manners and customs of bygone people which we could get in no 
other way. 

In the busy and lively streets of modern Rome we find enough 
to fill up all the time we can spare from the galleries and the 
antiquities. There are hundreds of shops, and the windows are 
full of many things which are peculiar to Rome ; such as beau- 
tiful gold-work of intricate and delicate patterns, many-colored 
Roman silken scarfs and blankets, great ox-horns beautifully 
polished and mounted with silver, coral made into every imagi- 
nable ornament, mosaics and cameos, brilliant water-color draw- 
ings of the Roman school, and no end of small bronzes and sculp- 
tures and other works of art. Among the things exhibited are 
the soft-colored Roman pearls ; and, looking through some of the 
shop-windows, we can see women at work making these pearls, 
for they are manufactured by human beings, and not by oysters. 
Each pearl is made on the end of a piece of wire like a knitting- 
needle. Hundreds of these needles, with pearls on the ends, some 
little things and some the size they are going to be, may be seen 
sticking in cushions, while women and girls are at work dipping 
other wires into the soft composition out of which the pearls are 
made, moulding and forming them into the proper shape. Every- 
where, too, may be seen men, boys, and women with baskets of 
tortoise-shell ornaments, of fruits and flowers, and nearly every 
imaginable thing to sell ; and foreign visitors have sometimes a 
great deal of trouble to escape from these energetic street 
merchants. 



74 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

Many of the streets are very narrow, and have no sidewalks ^ 
and when we are walking" in these we have to look out for ourselves, 
for there is no one else who will do it. Carriages and wagons come 
rattling along, expecting every one to get out of their way, and 
sometimes we must slip into doorways, or squeeze ourselves flat 
up against walls, in order not to be run over. Paving-stones and 
people all appear the same to a Roman driver ; if they don't get 
out of the way he will go over them. Sometimes when I have 
been in one of the little open Roman carriages, it has almost taken 
my breath away to see the driver dash into the midst of a crowd 
of people ; I certainly expected that somebody would be knocked 
down, but I never saw any one injured, or even touched. Practice 
makes excellent dodgers of Roman foot-travellers. The fact that 
it is against the law to get in the way of a vehicle helps to make 
them careful. In many parts of Europe, persons who are knocked 
down or run oyer by vehicles are fined or imprisoned. 

The royal palace is in Rome, and the king, princes, and many 
of the .other nobles live in or near the city, and we may often see 
their handsome equipages in the streets and in the parks. Very 
often we shall meet the beautiful Queen Margharita, who is a gra- 
cious and pleasant lady, and bows to the people as if she knew 
them alb King Humbert, too, is constantly to be met on fine 
afternoons. He is very fond of doing his own driving, and as he 
has over two hundred horses in his stables, he can always have a 
pair to suit him. It is harder for a king to drive than for any 
Other person to do so. He must hold the reins and guide the 
horses, he must also hold the whip, and he must always have a hand 
free with which to take off his hat, which he does on an average 
three times a minute. If ever I ride behind a fractious pair of 
horses, I do not wish a king to drive them. 

The modern Romans, even the common people, have a proud and 



GREAT ROME AGAIN. 75 



dignified air. They seem to have preserved something of the spirit 
of their ancestors. The men are very fond of long cloaks, a corner 
of which they throw over the left shoulder as the old Romans did 
their togas. It is quite amusing to see a letter-carrier delivering 
the mail, with his cloak thrown around him in this martial way. As 
for people who are truly martial, there are plenty of them to be 
seen in Rome. Soldiers are everywhere ; handsomely dressed offi- 
cers among the people on the sidewalks ; private soldiers, singly or 
two or three together, hurrying hither and thither on all sorts of 
errands; and very often a regiment, with a band, marching along 
at a quick rate, as if something were about to happen, every man 
with his rifle and his knapsack, and a whole cock's tail of feathers in 
his hat. 

As I have said before, the Italian Government is busily carry- 
ing on the work of excavating the ruins of ancient Rome, and 
.among the most interesting of these are the remains of the old 
Roman Forum, where the most important of the public buildings 
and temples stood, and where assemblies of the people were held. 
We shall wander for hours about this great open space, which is 
not far from the Colosseum ; we shall see the triumphal arch of 
Septimius Severus ; the remains of temples with some of their beau- 
tiful sculptured pillars still standing, tall and strong ; the narrow 
•streets, with their pavements of wide flag-stones, in which are the 
deep ruts worn by the old Roman wheels. These stones are marked 
in some places with circles, on which are indicated the points of 
the compass. On one side of the Forum is the lower part of the 
Basilica Julia, a great public building erected by Julius Csesar, with 
its long line of steps, the marble floors of its corridors, and some of 
its mosaic pavement still remaining. In these corridors we shall 
see, scratched on the marble slabs of the floor, squares and circles 
on which the Roman boys and men used to play games while idling 



76 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

outside the halls of justice. Near one of the temples is a broad 
platform from which orators addressed the people. Here Marc 
Antony stood when he pronounced the oration over the body of 
the murdered Caesar ; and, if we examine the place, we shall find 
that, near the edge of the low platform of stone, some of the great 
slabs are much worn. This was the best position for the speakers, 
and it must have required the sandals of generations of orators to 
so rub down and wear away the stones. It is probable that it was 
on this very spot Marc Antony stood ; and if any of the boys think 
that to take his place would inspire them with eloquence, they have 
but to stand there and try. Near by is the triumphal arch of Titus, 
which he erected when he returned victorious from Jerusalem ; and 
among the other sculptures on it we can still see, very clear and 
plain, the great seven-branched golden candlestick which he carried 
away from Solomon's Temple. 

A few steps from this brings us to the entrance of the palaces 
of the Csesars. These are the remains of the palaces built by the 
Roman emperors, and they cover a large extent of ground. Of 
some of them, all the upper parts are gone, nothing remaining but 
portions of walls and marble floors and fragments of sculptured 
columns ; while of others there are still many archways, corridors, 
and apartments. On the grounds is a small house with some of the 
rooms nearly perfect, in which are to be seen the paintings on 
the walls and the leaden pipes by which the water was brought in. 
Everywhere there are remains of beautiful marbles and sculptures. 
At one end of the grounds is 2. pcBdagogium, or schoolhouse. Here 
are several rooms, on the walls of which can be seen caricatures and 
inscriptions made by the Roman boys. They are scratched with a 
steel stylus, which they used for writing. Some of the pictures are 
quite good, and a number of the names of the scholars are tO' 
be seen. 



GREAT ROME AGAIN. 7/ 



We shall wander a long time over these palatial grounds, and 
In one place we shall see a small stone altar with an inscription on 
it statinof that it was erected to the Unknown God. 

All about this part of Rome are ruins of other immense and 
costly buildings erected by the Roman emperors. A moderate walk 
will bring us to the remains of the lower part of the celebrated 
Golden House of Nero, where we may wander through many great 
vaulted corridors and rooms. The Emperor Nero, as we all know, 
was as wicked a man as ever lived, and did all the injury to his 
fellow-beings that it was possible for him to do ; but I used to 
think, and I suppose everybody agreed with me, that the time had 
long since passed when he could cause injury to any one. Yet 
when I was visiting these ruins, which in places are very damp and 
wet, I caught quite a bad cold, and for about a week I was very 
severe on Nero. Who could imagine that anything he had done 
would have injured a peaceful American of the nineteenth century \ 
But the influence of the wicked is far-reaching. 

Over the ruins of this Golden House, which must have been a 
magnificent palace, the Emperor Titus erected baths, of which we 
may still see portions ; but these are nothing to the grand remains 
of the Baths of Caracalla, where we shall spend an hour or two. 
This was an immense and magnificent building, capable of accom- 
modating sixteen hundred bathers. A great part of its tall walls are 
still standing:, and here we can walk throug-h the immense rooms, 
some still retaining portions of their beautiful mosaic pavements, 
and we may even go down into the cellars, where are still to be seen 
the furnaces by which the water was heated. There was prob- 
ably never in the world so grand and luxurious a bath-house as 
this. It had great halls for promenading and recreation, and a 
race-course ; and in it were found some of the most valuable statues 
of antiquity. , 



78 



PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 



Many of us will be surprised to find the greater part of the 
Roman ruins of brick. This brick-work is of so good a quality 
that it has lasted almost as well as stone. The marble outside of 
most of these walls has long since been carried away. Some of 




IN THE BORGHKSE VILLA GARDENS. 



the more important buildings, however, are of stone, and there are 
some beautiful marble pillars and porticos still standing. 

We all have heard the statement that Rome was not built in a 
day, and we shall find out for ourselves that it takes a great many 
days to see it, even if we only glance at things which we should like 



GREAT ROME AGAIN. 79 



to examine and enjoy for hours. But we shall try to use profitably 
all the time we have to spend here, in this old city, great in ancient 
times, great in the Dark and Middle Ages, and great now. We 
shall visit very many churches, each different from the others, and 
each containing some interesting painting or possessing some archi- 
tectural beauties which make it famous. Among these are the Pan- 
theon, a circular church, formerly a pagan temple, still perfect, and 
lighted by the same great round opening in the roof, through which 
the rain came in the days of Julius Csesar just as it does now. Here 
Raphael, Victor Emmanuel, and other celebrated men are buried. 
We must also see the church of St. John Lateran, with an extensive 
building attached which for a thousand years was the palace of the 
popes, but is now an interesting museum ; and Santa Maria Mag- 
giore, with its beautiful chapels ; and the Borghese villa, and its 
beautiful gardens, filled with works of art ; and we must not fail 
to visit the magnificent new church of St. Paul's, outside the 
walls, the finest religious edifice of recent times, the vast marble 
floor of which, as smooth and bright as a lake of glistening ice, 
is worth coming to see, even if there were no mosaics, and no 
cloisters with splendid marbles and columns, and pillars and altars 
of alabaster and malachite sent from sovereigns of Europe and 
Africa. 

And very different from all this is what we see in the Jewish 
quarter of Rome, where the narrow streets are crowded with men, 
women, and children, each one with something to sell ; while the 
fronts of the houses are nearly covered with old clothes hung 
against them, and where there are dingy little shops crowded 
with bric-a-brac and all sorts of odd things, some of which we 
shall like to take home with us — but must be careful how we 
barorain. 

There is more, more, more, to be seen in Rome and in the 



8o PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

beautiful villages near by, but we can stay no longer now : so we 
will all go to the Fountain of Trevi, each of us will take a drink 
of water, and each of us will throw a small coin into the pool ; 
for there is a legend which says that people who do this when 
they are leaving Rome will be sure to come to this wonderful 
city again. 



V. 



AROUND THE BAY OF NAPLES. 

EVERY one of us who has ever read anything at all about Italy 
will remember that the Bay of Naples is considered one of 
the loveliest pieces of water in the world. It is not its beauty 
only which attracts us : it is surrounded by interesting and most 
curious places, and some of these we shall now visit. 

Although Naples is the most populous city of Italy, it will not 
take us very long to see it as it is, and that is all there is to see. 
Her people have always lived for the present ; they have never 
occupied themselves with great works of art or architecture for 
future ages ; and the consequence is, that, unlike the other cities of 
Italy, it offers us few interesting mementos of the past. Some of 
you may like this, and maybe much better satisfied to see how the 
Neapolitan enjoys himself to-day than to know how he used to do 
it a thousand years ago. If that is the case, all you have to do is 
to open your eyes and look about you. Naples is one of the noisi- 
est, liveliest cities in the world. The people are very fond of the 
open air, and they are in the streets all day, and nearly all night. 
The shoemaker brings his bench out on the sidewalk and sits there 
merrily mending his shoes. Women come out in front of their 
houses and sew, take care of their babies, and often make their 
bread and cook their dinners in the open street. In the streets all 
sorts and conditions of men, women, and children, work, play, buy, 
sell, walk, talk, sing, or cry ; here the carriages are driven furi- 
ously up and down, the drivers cracking their whips and shouting ; 

6 



82 



PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 



here move about the little donkeys, with piles of vegetables or 
freshly cut grass upon their backs, so that nothing but their heads 
and feet are seen ; and here are to be found noise enough and dirt 
enough to make some people very soon satisfied with their walks 
through the streets of Naples. 

The greatest attraction of Naples is its famous museum, which 

contains more valuable sculp- 
tures and works of art and 
more rare and curious things 
than we could look at in a 
week. There is nothing in 
it, however, which will inter- 
est us so much as the bronze 
figures, the wall-paintings,, 
the ornaments, domestic uten- 
sils, and other objects, which 
have been taken out of the 
ruins of the buried cities of 
collection of these things is 




SMALL SHOPS IN NAPLES, 



Pompeii and Herculaneum. The 
immense, for nearly everything that has been dug from the ruins 
since the excavations began has been brought to this museum. 
Some of the bronze statues are wonderfully beautiful and life-like ,*; 
and such figures as the " Narcissus" from Pompeii or the " Repos- 
ing Mercury " from Herculaneum have seldom been surpassed by 
sculptors of any age. There are many rooms filled with things that 
give us a good idea of how the Pompeiians used to live. Here are 
pots, kettles, pans, knives, saws, hammers, and nearly every kind 
of domestic utensil, and all sorts of tools. There is even a very 
complete set of instruments used by a dentist. In one of the cases 
is a bronze bell with its cord hanging outside, by which, if we 
choose, we may produce the same tinkle which used to summon 



AROUND THE BAY OF NAPLES. 83 

some Pornpeiian servant to her mistress. Little furnaces, bath- 
tubs, money-chests, and hundreds and hundreds of other articles, 
some of which look as if quite good enough for us to use, meet our 
eyes at every turn. In another room there are many cases con- 
taining articles of food which have been taken from the houses of 
Pompeii. The loaves of bread, the beans, the wheat, and many 
other articles, are much shrunken and discolored ; but the eggs look 
just as white and natural as when they were boiled, eighteen cen- 
turies ago. 

The sight of all these things makes us anxious to see the city 
that was so long buried out of sight of the world, and only brought 
to light again about a hundred years ago. A short ride by railway 
takes us from Naples to Pompeii, and, after being furnished with 
guides, we set out to explore this silent little city, whose citizens 
have not walked its streets since the year 79 a.d. 

This unfortunate place, which, as you all know, was entirely 
overwhelmed and covered up by a terrible shower of ashes during an 
eruption of Vesuvius, at the base of which it lies, is now in great 
part uncovered and open to view. The excavations which have 
been made at different timies since 1748 have laid bare a great many 
of the streets, houses, temples, and public buildings. All the roofs, 
however, with the exception of that belonging to one small edifice, 
are gone, having been burned or crushed in by the hot ashes. We 
shall find, however, the lower parts and the courts of nearly all the 
houses still standing, and many of them in good condition. The 
first thing which excites our surprise is the extreme narrowness of 
the streets. They all are well paved with large stones, and many 
of them have raised sidewalks, which leave barely room enough 
between for two chariots or narrow wagons to pass each other. 
Here and there are high stepping-stones, by which the Pompeiians 
crossed the streets In rainy weather, when there must have been a 



84 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

great deal of running water in these narrow roadways. Every- 
where we see the ruts which the wheels have worn in the hard 
stones. 

There are remains of a great many private houses ; and some 
of these which belonged to rich people have their walls handsomely 
ornamented with paintings, some of them quite bright and distinct, 
considering the long time that has elapsed since they were made. 
There are also a great many shops, all of them very small ; and in 
some of these still remain the marble counters with the jars that 
held the wines and other things which were there for sale. In a 
bakery there remain some ovens, and large stone mills worked by 
hand-power or by donkeys. Along street after street we go, and 
into house after house. We enter large baths with great marble 
tanks and arrangements for steam heating. We visit temples, one 
of which, the Temple of Isis, bears an inscription stating that, 
having been greatly injured by an earthquake in the year 63, it was 
restored at the sole expense of a boy six years old, named N. Popi- 
dius Celsinus. There are two theatres, and a great amphitheatre, 
or outdoor circus, besides an extensive forum, or place for public 
meetings. The more we walk through these quiet and deserted 
streets, and into these desolate houses, the shorter seem to us the 
eighteen centuries that have passed since any one lived here. It is 
scarcely possible to believe that it has been so long since these 
mills were turned, these ovens in use, or people came in and out 
of these shops. In some places there are inscriptions on the walls 
calling on the citizens to vote for such and such a person for a 
public office. 

A building has been erected as a museum, and in this are pre- 
served plaster casts of some of the people who perished in the erup- 
tion. These people were covered up by the fine ashes just where 
they fell, and in the positions in which they died. These ashes hard- 



AROUND THE BAY OF NAPLES. 



85 



ened, and although the bodies, with the exception of a few bones, 
entirely disappeared in the course of ages, the hollow places left in 
the ashes were exactly the shape of the forms and features of the 
persons who had been there. An ingenious Italian conceived the 




BOYS AT WORK IN THE EXCAVATIONS OF POMPEII. 



idea of boring into these hollow moulds and filling them up with 
liquid plaster of Paris. When this became dry and hard, the ashes 
were removed, and there were the plaster images of the persons 
who had been overtaken and destroyed before they could escape 
from that terrible storm of hot ashes, which came down in quanti- 
ties sufficient to cover a whole city from sight. In some of these 
figures the features are very distinct, and we can even distinguish 



86 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

the texture of their clothes and the rings upon their fingers. There 
are eight of these figures — men, women, and girls — besides the cast 
of a large dog. To stand and look upon the exact representation 
of these poor creatures who perished here, takes us back, more 
forcibly than anything else, to the days when Pompeii was a lively, 
bustling city. Could this poor man with the leather belt around 
his waist, or this young girl with so peaceful an expression, have 
fallen down and died in these positions just forty-six years after 
the death of Christ ? 

We may walk until we are tired, and we cannot in one visit 
properly see all that is interesting in the excavated portions of 
Pompeii ; and there is so much of the little city yet covered up, 
that, if the work of excavation goes on at the present rate, it will be 
about seventy years before the whole of Pompeii is laid open to 
the light. Men are kept steadily at work clearing out the ruins, 
and it may be that we are fortunate enough to be the first visitors 
to see some little room with painted walls, or some jar or piece of 
sculpture from which the ashes and earth have just been removed, 
and which the eye of man has not seen since the first century of 
the Christian era. 

It is the most natural thing in the world, after we have explored 
this ruined city, to desire to visit the volcano which ruined it. 
There it stands, the same old Vesuvius, just as able to cover up 
towns and villag;es with rivers of lava and clouds of ashes as it ever 
was. Fortunately it does not often choose to do so, and it is upon 
the good-natured laziness of their mountain that the people who 
live in the plains all about it, and even on its sides, depend for their 
lives and safety. There are few parts of the world more thickly 
settled than the country about Vesuvius. 

The ascent of the mountain can be best made from Naples 
because we can go nearly all the way by railroad. Vesuvius is not 



AROUND THE BAY OF NAPLES. 



^7 



always the same height, as the great cone of ashes which forms 
its summit varies somewhat before and after eruptions. It is gen- 
erally about four thousand feet high, although a great eruption in 
1872 is said to have knocked off a large part of its top. At pres- 




VIEW OF EXCAVATED PORTION OF POMPEII, LOOKING NORTHWEST. 



ent it is steadily increasing, because, although there have been no 
great eruptions lately, the crater is constantly working, and throw- 
ing out stones and ashes. Still there is no danger if we are careful, 
and we shall go up and see what the crater of a real live volcano 
looks like. The last part of our trip is made on what is called a 



PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 



funicular railway, which runs nearly to the top of the great central 
cone, fifteen hundred feet high, on which the cars are drawn up by 
wire ropes. This railway, however, does not take us quite all the 
way, and there are some hundred feet of loose ashes up which we 
must walk before we reach the top. The way is very steep, we 
sometimes sink into the ashes nearly up to our knees, and alto- 
gether it is a piece of very tough work. But, if any of us feel 
unequal to it, we can be taken up in chairs, each borne by two stout 
porters. We cannot be sure what we are going to see when we 
are at the summit : smoke and vapor are constantly arising from 
the crater, and sometimes the wind blows this toward us, and makes 
it impossible to see into the great abyss ; but at other times we 
may approach quite near, and see the smoke and steam rising from 
below, while stones and masses of lava are thrown into the air and 
fall back into the crater. The ground in some places is so hot that 
eggs may be roasted by simply allowing them to lie upon It. If we 
are not careful, some of us will have the soles of our shoes badly 
burned by walking over these hot places. The sight of this great 
crater always burning, and smoking, and seething, and sometimes 
throwing the light of great fires up from below, is enough to make 
some people nervous ; but unless we go too near the edge, or 
expose ourselves to the fumes of the sulphurous gas which arises 
from the depths below, there is no particular danger on the top of 
Vesuvius. If the weather is fine, we get a grand view of the bay 
and the country around about ; and even if we have been fright- 
ened or tired, or have to get a pair of new shoes when we go down 
the mountain, the fact that we have looked into the crater of an 
active volcano is something that we shall always remember with 
satisfaction. 

As long as we are anywhere on the Bay of Naples we need 
never expect to be rid of Vesuvius ; and, indeed, we need not wish 



AROUND THE BAY OF NAPLES. 89 

to, for by day and night it is one of the finest features of the land- 
scape. The people in Naples and all the surrounding country 
justly consider it the greatest attraction to travellers. Every hotel- 
keeper, no matter how little his house is, or where it is situated, 
has a picture made of it with Vesuvius smoking away in the back- 
ground. The poor mountain is thus moved about from place to 
place, without any regard to its own convenience, in order that 
tourists may know that, if they come to any one of these 
hotels, they may always have a good view of a grand volcano. 

One of our excursions will be a drive along the eastern shore 
of the bay to the little town of Sorrento, and we shall find the road 
over which we go one of the most beautiful, if not the most beauti- 
ful, that we have ever seen in our lives. On one side are the 
mountains and hills covered with orange and lemon groves, olive 
and pomegranate trees, and vineyards ; and on the other, the beau- 
tiful blue waters of the bay, with its distant islands raising their 
misty purple outlines against the cloudless sky. Sorrento, the home 
of wood-carving, as many of you may know, was a favorite sum- 
mer resort of the ancients, and the old Romans used to come here 
for sea-bathing. Near by are the rocks on which, according to 
ancient tradition, the sirens used to sit and sing, for the sole pur- 
pose, so far as we have been able to discover, of exciting the atten- 
tion of the sailors on passing ships, and attracting them to the 
rocks where they might be wrecked. We can get boats and row 
beneath these very rocks, but never a siren shall we see ; although 
there are great caves into which the water flows, and into the 
gloomy and solemn depths of which we can row for quite a long 
distance, and imagine, if we please, that the sirens are hiding behind 
the rocks in the dark corners, but knowing very well that, as we 
have heard about their tricks and their manners, it will be of no 
use for them to sing their songs to us. Even now the people of 



90 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

Sorrento have fancies of this sort, and many believe that the ravines 
near the town are inhabited by dwarfs. There are a great many 
interesting and pleasant things about Sorrento ; but, after all, the 
object which we shall look at the most and find the most enjoyable 
is our friend Vesuvius. The great volcano is many miles from us 
now, but as long as we are in this bay we cannot avoid it. All day 
it sends up its beautiful curling column of steam, which rises high 
into the air and spreads out like a great white tree against the sky, 
while at night this high canopy of vapors Is lighted at intervals to 
a rosy brightness by flashes of fire from the crater below. And 
from this point of view the volcano shows us at night another 
grand sight. Not very far below the summit four streams of lava 
have broken out, and, after running some distance down the moun- 
tain-side, flow again into the ground and disappear. At night we 
can see that these lava streams are red-hot, and, viewed from afar, 
they look like four great rivers of fire. For months these have 
been steadily flowing, and after a time they will disappear, and 
the mountain will set itself to work to devise some other kind of 
fireworks with which to light up the nightly scene. 

From Sorrento we shall take a little steamer to the island of 
Capri, in the most southern part of the bay. The town has no 
wharves at which a steamboat can lie, so we take small boats and 
row out to wait for the steamboat which comes from Naples and 
stops here. The poet Tasso was born in Sorrento, and as we row 
along the river-front of the town, the greater part of which is 
perched upon the rocks high above the water, we shall float directly 
over his house, or rather the foundations of it, which we can see a 
few feet below us through the clear, transparent water. Once the 
town extended much farther into the bay than it does now ; year by 
year the water encroached upon the land, and now there are but 
few places at the foot of the cliff where there is room for houses. 



AROUND THE BAY OF NAPLES. 9 1 

While we are waiting here, several boats filled with Italian boys, 
some of them very little fellows, row out to us, and sing songs and 
choruses for our benefit, hoping for coppers in return. The little 
fellows sing with great vivacity, keeping admirable time, and clap- 
ping their hands and wagging their heads, as if they were fired with 
the spirit of their songs. They are not at all like sirens, but 
they will charm some money from us ; and when we seem to have 
had enough music, they will offer to dive into the water after copper 
coins, each wrapped in a piece of white paper so that they can see 
it as it sinks. While engaged in this sport, the steamboat comes 
up, the steps are let down, we climb on board, and are off for 
Capri. 

This island has long been noted for two things — its Blue Grotto 
and its pretty girls. We shall have to take some trouble to see the 
first, but the latter will spare themselves no trouble to see us, as 
we shall presently find. It is not often that any one examines 
an island so thoroughly as to go under it, over it, and around 
it ; but this we shall do at Capri, and we shall begin by going 
under it. 

It is only when the weather is fine and the sea is smooth that the 
celebrated Blue Grotto can be visited ; and, as everybody who goes 
to the island desires to see this freak of nature, the steamboat, 
when the weather is favorable, proceeds directly to the grotto. We 
steam for a mile or two along the edge of the island, which appears 
like a great mountain-top rising out of the water, and come to a 
stop near a rocky precipice. At the foot of this we see a little hole, 
about a yard high, and somewhat wider. Near by lie a number of 
small boats, each rowed by one man, and, as soon as our steamboat 
nears the place, these boats are pulled toward us with all the power 
of their oarsmen, jostling and banging against each other, while the 
men shout and scold as each endeavors to be the first to reach the 



92 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

Steamboat. In these boats we are to enter the grotto, three of us 
in each, that being the greatest number they are allowed to carry. 
When we go down the side and step into the boats, we are told that 
we must all lie down flat in the bottom; for, if our heads or shoul- 
ders j3.re above the sides of the boat, they may get an awkward 
knock in going through the hole in the rock^ which is the only 
entrance to the grotto. As one boat after another pushes off from 
the steamer, the girls will probably nestle down very closely; but I 
think most of the boys will keep their faces turned upwards, and at 
least one eye open to see what is going to happen. The water of 
the bay seemed quite smooth when we were on the steamboat, but 
there is some wind, and we now find that the waves are running 
tolerably high against the rocky precipice before us, and dashing 
in and out of the hole which we are to enter. As we approach this 
opening, the first boat is pulled rapidly toward it ; but a wave which 
has just gone in now comes rolling out, driving the boat back, and 
bumping it against the others. Some of us are frightened, and wish 
we were safe again on the steamboat ; but there is no danger : these 
boatmen are very skilful, and if one of them were to allow his boat 
to upset, he would lose his reputation forever. Again the boat is 
pulled forward, this time with an in-going wave ; and, as it reaches 
the entrance, the man jerks in his oars, seizes the roof and sides of 
the aperture with his hands, and with much dexterity and strength 
shoots his boat into the grotto. One after another, each boat 
enters, and, as we all sit up and look about us, we find ourselves in 
a strange and wonderful place. It was worth while to be frightened 
and jostled a little to be in such a grand sea-grotto as this. The 
floor is a wide expanse of light blue water, not rough like the bay 
outside, but gently agitated by the waves at the mouth of the cave, 
and every ripple flecked with silvery light. Each boat, as it moves 
through the water, has an edging of this rippling light, which drips 



AROUND THE BAY OF NAPLES. 



93 



and falls from the oars whenever they are raised. The grotto is 
quite large, and over all is a domed roof of rock, and this twinkles 
and sparkles with bluish light. It is, indeed, what it has been 
named — a blue grotto. We naturally wonder where all this blue 
light comes from. There are no openings in the roof above, and, 
as we look over toward the dark hole by which we came in, we see 




THE BLUE GROTTO, ISLAND OF CAPRL 



that little light can enter there. The fact Is, that the opening into 
the cave under the water is much larger than it is above, and the 
bright sunlight that goes down into the water on the outside comes 
up through it into the grotto. It goes down like the golden sun- 
light it is, and it comes up into the grotto more like moonlight, but 
blue, sparkling, and brilliant. Everything about us seems weird 
and strange. One of the men, without a coat, stands up in his 
boat, and the blue light playing on the under part of his white 
shirt-sleeves curiously illuminates him. At the far end of the 



94 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

grotto is a little ledge, the only place where it is possible to land, 
and on this stands a man in thin cotton clothes, who offers for a 
small sum of money to dive into the water. In a few moments 
down he goes, and we see him, a great silvery mass, sink far below 
us. Soon he comes up again, ready to repeat the performance as 
often as he is paid for it. 

The most beautiful description of the Blue Grotto is to be 
found in " The Improvisatore," a story by Hans Christian Ander- 
sen, in which his rare imagination has thrown into this grotto, and 
over its walls and waters, a fairy-like light that is more beautiful 
perhaps than the blue light that comes up from the sea. There are 
persons who have read his account, and the beautiful story of the 
blind girl and her lover, who have afterward been disappointed 
when they saw the grotto for themselves ; but it is said that if such 
persons should come a second time the beauty of the place would 
grow upon them, and they would see the fairy-like scene that they 
have read about. I never visited the grotto the second time. 

After a while, our boats go out rather more easily than they 
came in, and we are soon on the steamboat, and off for the Marina 
Grande, or principal landing-place of the island of Capri. There 
is no wharf, and we are taken off in small boats. The town of 
Capri is not here ; it is high up on the steep hills above us : but 
there are some houses and one or two hotels scattered about near 
the water, and very soon the pretty girls come down to meet us, 
and right glad they are to see us. Some of them are as young 
as fourteen, and some are as old as twenty ; many of them are 
really handsome, with regular features, large dark eyes, and that 
clear, lightly-browned complexion which some people think more 
beautiful than white. They are plainly, but some of them prettily, 
dressed, and all have bare heads and bare feet. Nearly all of them 
have strings of coral, which they are not slow to urge us to buy ; 



AROUND THE BAY OF NAPLES. 95 

and we find that it is because they hope to make a Httle money by 
selling these, that these pretty girls are so glad to see us. Others 
are leading little donkeys on which we may ride to the town above. 
But we shall notice that not one of them is begging. The people 
of this island are very industrious and very independent. 

Capri was named by the Romans Caprese (the island of goats), 
but I do not know whether this name was given because there were 
a good many goats here, or because it was a good place for goats. 
The latter would have been an excellent reason, for the island is all 
^'up hill and down dale." Until very recently there were no roads 
upon the island for carriages or wheeled vehicles, and if people did 
not walk up and down the steep paths which led everywhere, they 
rode upon donkeys or horses ; but lately roads have been con- 
structed which wind backward and forward alongf the hillsides and 
precipices to the two small towns upon the island, Capri and Ana- 
capri. Some of us will take pony carriages up the road to Capri ; 
others will walk ; and others will ride donkeys, each attended by a 
woman or a girl, who steers the little beast by the tail, or encour- 
ages it with a switch. The island is about half a mile high, and 
after we reach the Httle town, and have had our dinner, we prepare 
to scatter ourselves over its surface. 

We shall find this island one of the finest places for walks, 
rambles, and scrambles that we have yet seen. After we reach the 
town there is no more carriage-road, and the principal thorough- 
fares, which lead through the little fields and gardens, and by occa- 
sional scattered houses, are about five feet wide, and paved with 
small round cobble-stones. These are not very pleasant to walk 
on, but we shall soon discover that if these roads were smooth we 
should not be able to go up and down them at all. We shall see 
here very funny little fields of grain, beans, and other crops. Some 
of the wheat-fields are not much bigger than the floor of a large 



96 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

room in one of our dwelling-houses. The people are poor, and 
they cultivate every spot of land on which anything useful will 
grow. A half-hour's walk above the town will take us to some 
high points, from which we get beautiful views of the Mediterra- 
nean to the south, and the Bay of Naples to the north, while away 
to the west we can see the island of Ischia, looking so peaceful 
under the soft blue sky that no one could imagine that only a few 
years ago it had been visited by a terrible earthquake, in which 
hundreds of people perished. From one of the high places to 
which we can walk, we look down the precipitous rocks to the sea, 
far below us ; and out in the water, entirely disconnected with the 
land, we see three great pointed masses of rock, some little dis- 
tance from the shore. On the very top of one of these is a small 
house or tower built there by the ancient Romans. What it was 
intended for, on this almost inaccessible place, is not exactly known, 
but it is believed that it was built for a tomb, I suppose some of 
you think that it is a great deal harder to rid ourselves of the 
Romans than of Vesuvius, but it cannot be helped ; we shall find 
that they have been wherever we wish to go. On the land side of 
this promontory, we look down into a rocky valley called the Vale 
of Matrimony, near the bottom of which is a great natural arch, or 
bridge of rock. The name of this vale is a corruption of a name 
the Romans gave it, and it does not look as if it had anything to 
do with matrimony. Another of our walks will take us to a very 
high point, on which are some ruins of the villa of Tiberius, the 
Roman emperor. This gentleman, having involved himself in a 
great deal of trouble at home, concluded to retire to this rocky 
island, where he would be safe from his enemies, and here he lived 
until his death in the year 2i1 a.d. Capri must have been a very 
different place then, as far as the manners and customs of its inhab- 
itants are concerned. The emperor built no less than twelve hand- 



AROUND THE BAY OF NAPLES. 97 

some villas in various parts of the island, and made all necessary 
arrangements to enjoy himself as much as possible. The villa 
which we are visiting was one of the largest, and the remains of 
vaulted chambers and corridors show that it must have been a very 
iine building. A short distance below it is the top of a precipice, 
from which, tradition says, Tiberius used to have those persons 
whom he had condemned to death thrown down into the sea. 
This was not an unusual method of execution with the Romans, 
and, if Tiberius really adopted it in this place, his victims must 
have met with a certain and speedy death. 

If any of us really desire to see a hermit, we can now be grati- 
iied, for one of that profession has his dwelling here. He prob- 
ably does live here all alone, but he does not look like our ordinary 
ideal of a hermit. He will be glad to receive some coppers, and 
also to have us write our autographs in a book which he keeps for 
the purpose. A hermit autograph-collector in the ruined villa of a 
Roman emperor, on the top of a mountainous island in the Medi- 
terranean, is something we did not expect to meet with on our 
travels. 

Wherever we go in our walks about the island, we shall meet 
with the pretty girls. They are always at work, but, unfortunately, 
they are sometimes engaged in much harder labor than that of 
selling coral or leading donkeys. Often we may see lines of girls, 
who, if nicely dressed, and wearing shoes and stockings, would do 
credit in appearance to any boarding-school, each carrying on her 
head a wooden tray containing stones or mortar for masons who 
are building a house or wall ; and at any time they may be seen 
going up and down the steep paths of the island carrying heavy 
loads upon their heads. As I said before, the people here are 
generally poor, and everybody who can, old and young, must work. 
Why there are so few boys in comparison with the girls, I do not 

7 



98 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

know. It may be that the boys go away to other parts of the 
world, where they can find work that will pay them better than 
anything they can do on their native island. 

I said, when we first came here, that we should go under, over, 
and around this island ; and when we have rambled through the 
valleys and over the hills, and have paid a visit to Anacapri, the 
other little town, we may say that we have been over it ; when we 
visited the Blue Grotto, we went under it; and now we shall go 
around it, by taking boats and m-aking what is called the giro, or 
circuit of the island. The trip will require several hours, and we 
shall see that the island of Capri is rather rich in grottos, and that 
the monotony of such water caverns is varied by having them of 
different colors. One of them is the White Grotto, which would 
doubtless be considered very pretty, if it were the only one here. 
But afterward we shall see the Green Grotto, which is very beauti- 
ful indeed, in which the water and the rocks are of a fine green 
hue. When we reach the three high rocks, which we saw from 
above, we shall see that the central one is pierced by an arched 
opening, through which the boatmen will row our boats. 

And now, having spent as much time on this charming island 
as we think we can spare, we pack up the valises and other light 
baggage which we brought with us, and make everything ready to 
leave the next morning. But when the next morning comes we do 
not leave. The island of Capri is not a place to which you can 
come when you choose, and from which you can depart when you 
feel like it. The day is fine, the sun is bright, and the sky is blue ; 
but there is a strong wind blowing, and the bay is full of waves. 
They are not very high waves, to be sure, but anything which has 
the slightest resemblance to rough weather is sufficient to make the 
captains of the small steamers which ply between Naples and Capri 
decide to suspend operations until the bay is smooth again. If 



AROUND THE BAY OF NAPLES. 99 

people are disappointed and have to stay where they do not wish 
to stay, they must blame the winds, and not the captains, who, if 
told that an American or English sailor would think nothing of the 
little gales that are sufficient to keep them at their anchorage, would 
probably shrug their shoulders and say that they were not Ameri- 
can or English sailors, and were very glad of it. 

Sometimes visitors are kept at Capri a week waiting for a 
steamer. It is possible to go over to Sorrento in a fishing-boat; 
but the roughest part of the bay lies between us and the home of 
the wood-carvers, and it is not over such water and in little boats 
that I propose to personally conduct my young friends. So we may 
congratulate ourselves, that, if we have to be imprisoned for a time 
on an island, there is no pleasanter one for the purpose than Capri, 
and shall therefore contentedly wait to see what happens next. 

Lore. 



VI. 

IN FLORENCE AND VENICE. 

WE left ourselves in Capri, in the previous chapter, not 
knowing how long we should have to stay there, but I am 
happy to say, that, after having been detained for two 
days, during which we scattered ourselves over the whole island, 
and made up our minds that it was a place where we could spend 
a summer vacation with perfect satisfaction, the steamboat came 
and we sailed away. 

And now we are in Florence, having come by railway from 
Naples, stopping over night in Rom^e. As I have said before, each 
prominent Italian city is as different from all the others as if it 
belonged to another country ; and, in fact, at one time or another 
they each did belong to a different country. 

We cannot walk in the narrow streets by the tall palaces, and 
in the great open squares of Florence, called by the Italians La 
Bella because it is so beautiful, without being reminded at every 
step of bygone times ; and yet there is nothing ancient about 
Florence. It is preeminently a city of the Middle Ages, and, with 
the exception of the dress of its citizens, it looks almost as mediae- 
val to-day as it did in the time of Dante and Michael Angelo. The 
Romans were here, of course, but they left few or no ruins behind 
them, and in our rambles through Florence we shall never think of 
the ancient Romans, This, I know, will be a comfort to some 
of us. It was in the Middle Ages that Florence raised itself up so 
that the whole world might see it, and it was not only political 



IN FLORENCE AND VENICE. lOl 

power or commercial greatness that then was seen, but a city of 
poets and architects, of men of learning and of thought. One 
of the charms of Florence now will be that we can see it just as it 
^as at the time of its greatest glory. The lofty, fortified palaces 
appear in as good order as when they were first built; some of 
them are still inhabited by the descendants of the princes and 
nobles who built them. In the walls of these palaces are the same 
iron rings to which the knights and cavaliers used to tie their 
horses, and here, too, are the iron sockets in which torches were 
thrust to light up the street about the palace doors. These things 
are sound and strong, and would be perfectly fit for use to-day, if 
people still tied their horses to rings in the sides of houses, or 
thrust torches into iron sockets. It is a peculiarity of the city that 
nearly everything, no matter how long ago it was made or built, 
is in good condition. Florence has been well kept, and if the 
painters and poets, the architects, the sculptors, and philosophers of 
former days could return to it, they would probably feel very much 
at home. Giotto could look up at the beautiful campanile, or bell- 
tower, that he built, and find it just as he had left it ; and, if he 
had forgotten what he meant by the groups and symbols which he 
put upon it, he could step into the adjoining street and buy a book 
by Mr. Ruskin, the English art critic, which would tell him all 
about it. Dante could sit on the same stone (if somebody would 
take it out of a wall for him) on which he used to rest and watch 
the building of the great dttomo, or cathedral. This stone, now 
called the Sasso di Dante, was placed, after the poet's death, in the 
wall of a house near the spot where it used to lie, and there it is 
now, with an inscription on it. Farther-on, the two architects who 
built the cathedral would find statues of themselves — one looking 
up at the dome, because he made that ; and the other at the body 
of the building, because that was his work. The great, round 



I02 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

baptistery, near by, would look very familiar, with its beautful bronze 
doors, on which are twelve exquisite bas-reliefs representing Scrip- 
ture scenes. And if these returned Florentines were to go inside, 
they would probably see some babies baptized in very much the 
same way in which it used to be done in the Middle Ages. On 
the opposite side of the street they would still find the bigallo, a 
very pretty little building, in the open porch of which babies 
were put on exhibition at certain periods, so that any one who 
wished to adopt a child could come there and see if any one of 
those on view would suit. It was, in fact, a sort of baby market. 
The place is now an orphan asylum, but I believe the babies are 
not set out for adoption. In a small street, not far from the cathe- 
dral, Dante would find his old house still standing ; and Michael 
Angelo could go into his house, and find, in the room which he 
used as his study, a lot of unfinished pencil-drawings just as he 
left them. 

In the principal //«5'<s'^, or square, of the city would still be seen 
standing the great Palazzo Vecchio, which is a town hall now, just 
as it used to be ; and near by still stands the vast open portico 
adorned with statuary, in which the nobles and the magistrates 
once gathered to view public spectacles or meetings in the open 
square. But Savonarola, the famous monk and patriot of Florence, 
could not see the spot in this square where he was burned at the 
stake. This place has been covered by a handsome fountain. 
Here, in the vast Ufftzzi Palace, the Duke de Medici, Cosmo III., 
would find that now-celebrated statue of Venus which he brought 
to Florence in the sixteenth century. It was an ancient statue 
then, but its great fame h'S.s come to it since, and it still is known 
as the Venus di Medici, and not by the name of its sculptor — Cleo- 
menes the Greek, the son of Apollodorus. 

What a grand collection of pictures and sculptures, with the 



IN FLORENCE AND VENICE. 



103 



most of which they would be very famiHar,^ would the returned 
Florentines of the Middle Ages find in the long galleries of the 
Uffizzi Palace, and in those of the Pitti Palace on the other side of 
the River Arno which runs through the city ! These two palaces 




THE MERCATO VECCHIO. 



are united by a covered gallery, which forms the upper story of a 
very old bridge called the Ponte Vecchio, which Is a very curious 
and interesting structure. Each side is lined with little shops, 
which, ever since the year 1593, have been occupied by goldsmiths 
and jewellers. The shops are still there, and, if the old-time gold- 



104 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

smiths were to come back, they would have no difficulty in finding 
their old places of business. 

The Pitti Palace is a very grand building, with a front as long 
as a New-York block from avenue to avenue. The massive stones 
of which it is built, some of them twenty feet long, are rough and 
unhewn, and the whole building has a very massive and imposing 
appearance. This and the Uffizzi Palace together contain one of 
the most valuable and extensive collections of pictures in the world. 
Even the covered way over the bridge has its walls hung with 
pictures. Here we shall wander from hall to hall, and gallery to 
gallery, and look upon many of those great works of art, of which 
we have so often seen engravings, or which we have read and heard 
about. 

The Bargello is a large and old stone palace, once the resi- 
dence of the Podesta, or chief magistrate, of the town. It is 
now a museum filled with all sorts of curious things, generally 
relating to old Florence, such as arms, costumes, etc. There are 
also here a great many statues and other works of art. One of 
these is that fine figure of Mercury, casts of which we have all 
seen. It stands tip-toe on one foot, and is winged on head and 
heels. 

The palaces of Florence were built for fortresses as well as for 
residences, and they still stand, tall, massive, and gray, looking 
down upon the narrow streets of the city. On the corners of some 
of these we shall see great lamps surrounded by the intricate and 
beautiful iron work for which the artist blacksmiths of the Middle 
Ages were famous. 

It will soon become evident to those of us who have not remem- 
bered the fact, that the Medici family were once very prominent 
citizens of Florence. There are Medici statues in. the public 
places ; the Medici palaces indicate the power and wealth of the 



IN FLORENCE AND VENICE. 105 



family ; and in the Church of San Lorenzo, besides some grand 
sculptured tombs by Michael Angelo, we shall see the Chapel of 
the Princes, an immense hall, built by the Medici family as a place 
in which to bury their dead, at a cost of over four millions of 
dollars. The octagonal walls of the room, which is very high and 
covered by a dome, are composed of the most costly marbles and 
valuable stones, while upon lofty pedestals around the room are the 
granite sarcophagi of six of the Medici princes, gorgeously adorned 
with emeralds, rubies, and other precious gems. 

If we happen to be in Florence on Ascension Day, we shall see 
a great m.any people in the streets, or in the old market or Mercato 
Vecchio, who offer for sale little wooden cages, two or three 
inches square, which are used in a very peculiar way. Each per- 
son who wants to know what his or her fortune is to be durino" the 
ensuing year buys one of these cages, and into it is put a cricket, 
great numbers of which are caught on that day by children, and 
even men and women, in the fields and roads outside of the town. 
Each cricket is kept in its cage without food, and if it grows thin 
enough to get out between the little bars, and escapes, then its 
owner expects good luck during all the year; but if the cricket's 
constitution cannot withstand privation, and it dies in the cage 
before it is thin enough to get out, then the person who impris- 
oned it must expect misfortune. Many travellers bu3^some of these 
curious little cages as mementos ; but if we do not wish to be 
troubled by the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, 
or our own consciences, we shall not go into the cricket fortune- 
telling business. 

The suburbs of Florence are very beautiful, and from some 
points in them we have charming views of the city, and the valley 
in which it lies, the river, and the mountains all about. To the 
north, on an eminence, is the very ancient and picturesque town 



io6 



PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 



of Fiesole, with remains of great walls which were built by the 
Etruscans before Romulus and Remus were ever heard of. 



Going on with our journey, the next place we shall visit is 
Venice, the " City in the Sea." This lies, as we all know, in a shal- 
low part of the Adriatic, and is built upon three large islands and 
one hundred and fourteen smaller islands. Instead of streets it 



'^si 9 




A BIT OF VENICE 



has one hundred and fifty canals. The railway on which we arrive 
crosses a bridge more than two miles long — the wide stretch of 
water lying between the city and the mainland ; and when we go 
out of the station, instead of finding carriages and cabs in waiting 
for us, we see the famous long black boats of Venice, called gon- 
dolas. There is not a horse, a cab, or a carriage of any kind in 
all the city. The people go about in gondolas or other kinds of 
boats, or walk in the alleys, streets, and squares, which are found 



IN FLORENCE AIsD VENICE. lOJ 

all over the city. If any one wishes to cross a canal, he can do it 
by that one of the three hundred and seventy-eight bridges that 
happens to be most convenient. 

The Grand Canal, nearly two miles long, and as broad as a 
small river, winds through the city. At one end of it is the 
railway station, and at the other the hotel to which we are going. 
When we are all ready — four of us, with our baggage, in each gon- 
dola — the two gondoliers, one standing at the stern and the other 
at the bow, push upon their long oars and send us skimming over 
the water. We shall not make the whole tour of the Grand Canal, 
but soon leaving it, we glide into one of the side canals, and thread 
our way swiftly along, between tall houses rising right out of 
the water, under bridges, around corners, past churches, and open 
squares filled with busy people — grazing, but never touching, other 
gondolas going in the opposite direction, until we shoot out into 
the lower part of the Grand Canal, near its junction with the 
lagoon, or bay, in which Venice lies. Tall palaces, with their 
fronts beautifully ornamented, now stand upon our left, and on 
the opposite bank is a great domed church with beautiful carvings 
and sculptures, which seems to rise, balloon-like, out of the water. 
In the open lagoon is a large island with a tall church-spire. Far 
away are other islands, purple in the distance ; vessels sail about 
with brightly colored sails, often red or orange ; gondolas shoot 
here, there, and everywhere ; and a little farther down, large ships 
and steamers lie at anchor. Our gondolas skim around with a 
sweep, and stop at the steps of the hotel, which come down into 
the water. 

There are few things about Venice that will be more directly 
interesting to us than the gondolas, which constitute a peculiar and 
delightful feature of the city. If ordinary rowboats were substi- 
tuted for gondolas, Venice would lose one of its greatest charms. 



Io8 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

These boats, which are truly Venetian, and are used nowhere else 
but here, are very long, narrow, and light. The passengers, of 
whom there are seldom more than four, sit on softly cushioned 
seats in .the middle of the boat, and the portion occupied by them 
is generally covered in cold or rainy weather by a little cabin, some- 
thing like a carriage-top, with windows at the sides and a door in 
front. In hot weather, when the sun shines, this cabin-top is taken 
off, and its place supplied by a light awning. Very often, however, 
neither is needed, and at such times the gondola is most enjoyable. 
At the bow of every gondola rises a high steel affair, brightly pol- 
ished, which looks like an old-fashioned halberd or sword-axe ; these 
are placed here principally because it has always been the fashion 
to have them, and they are also useful in going under bridges : if 
Xho. ferro, as this handsome steel prow is called, can go under a 
bridge without touching, the rest of the gondola will do so also. 
There is but one color for a gondola, and that is black ; this, espe- 
cially when the black cabin is on, gives it a very sombre appear- 
ance. Many people, indeed, liken them to floating hearses, with 
their black cords, tassels, and cushions. But when their white or 
bright-colored awnings are up, or when they have neither canopy 
nor awning, their appearance is quite cheerful. There is nothing 
funereal, however, about the gondoliers, of whom there is generally 
one to each gondola. It is only when the boat is heavily loaded, 
or when great speed or style is desired, that there are two of them. 
The gondolier stands in the stern, as we have so often seen him in 
pictures, and rests his oar on a crotched projection at the side of 
the boat ; he leans forward, throwing his weight upon his oar, and 
thus sends his light craft skimming over the water. As he sways 
forward and back, sometimes apparently on one foot only, it seems 
as if he were in danger of tumbling off the narrow end of the boat ; 
but he never does. Trust him for that. The dexterity with which 



IN FLORENCE AND VENICE. 



109 



he steers his craft, always with his oar on one side, is astonishing. 
He shoots around corners, giving, as he does so, a very pecuHar 
shout to tell other gondoliers that he is coming ; in narrow places 
he glides by the other boats, or close up to houses, without ever 
touching anything ; and when he 
has a straight course, he pushes 
on and on, and never seems to be 














tired. Gondoliers in the ser- 
vice of private families, and 
some of those whose boats are for hire, dress in very pretty 
costumes of white or light-colored sailor clothes, with a broad 
collar and a red or blue sash ; these, with a straw hat and long 
floating ribbons, give the gondolier a very gay appearance, which 
counterbalances in a measure the sombreness of his boat. 



no PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

The reason that the gondolas are always black is this : in the 
early days of Venice the rich people were very extravagant, and 
each one of them tried to look finer than any one else ; among 
their other rivalries, they decked out their goiidolas in a very gor- 
geous fashion. In order to check this absurd display, there was a 
law passed in the fifteenth century decreeing that every gondola, 
no matter whether it belonged to a rich man or a poor one, should 
be entirely black ; and since that time every gondola has been 
black. 

I have said a great deal in regard to gondolas, because they are 
very important to us, and we shall spend much of our time in them. 
One of the best things about them is that they are very cheap : 
the fare for two persons is twenty cents for the first hour, and ten 
cents for each succeeding hour. If we give the gondolier a little 
extra change at the end of a long row, he will be very grateful. 

One of our first excursions will be a trip along the whole length 
of the Grand Canal. As we start from the lower end, we soon 
pass on our right the small but beautiful palace of Cantarini-Fasan, 
which is said to have been the palace in which Shakespeare chose to 
lay the scene of Othello's courtship of Desdemona. The palaces 
which we now see rising up on each side were almost all built in 
the Middle Ages, and many of them look old and a little shabby, 
but among them are some very beautiful and peculiar specimens 
of architecture, their fronts beingf covered with artistic and orace- 
ful ornamentation ; many of the v/indows, or rather clusters of win- 
dows, are very picturesque ; and the effect of these long rows of 
grand old palaces, with their pillars, their carvings, and the varied 
colors of their fronts, is much more pleasing to us than if they 
were all fresh and new. One of these, the Ca d'Oro, or House of 
Gold, is particularly elegant ; and some of the larger ones, such as 
the Palazzo Foscari, are grand specimens of architecture. These 



IN FLORENCE AND VENICE. 1 1 1 

palaces are directly at the water's edge, and at a couple of yards' 
distance from their doorways is a row of gayly painted posts, 
driven into the bottom of the canal. They are intended to pro- 
tect the gondolas lying at the broad stone steps from being run 
into by passing craft. The posts in front of each house are of 
different color and design, and add very much to the gayety of the 
scene. Before long we come to quite a large bridge, which is one of 
the three that cross the Grand Canal. We must stop here and land, 
for this is a bridge of which we all have heard, and we shall wish 
to walk upon it and see what it looks like. It is the Rialto, where 
" many a time and oft " old Shylock in the " Merchant of Venice " 
had a disagreeable time of it. It is a queer bridge, high in the 
middle, with a good many steps at either end. On each side is a 
row of shops or covered stalls, where fruit, crockery, and small 
articles are sold. This is a very busy quarter of the city ; on one 
side of the canal is the fish market, and on the other the fruit and 
vegetable market. The canal here, and indeed for its whole length, 
is full of life : large craft move slowly along, the men on board gen- 
erally pushing them with long poles ; now and then a little passen- 
ger steamboat, not altogether suited to a city of the Middle Ages, 
but very quiet and unobtrusive, hurries by, crowded with people ; 
and look where we may, we see a man standing on the thin end of 
a long black boat, pushing upon an oar, and shouting to another 
man engaged in the same pursuit. 

Passing under a long modern bridge built of iron, we go on until 
we reach the railway bridge where we came in, and go out upon 
the broad lagoon, where we look over toward the mainland and see 
the long line of the beautiful Tyrolese Alps. We return through 
a number of the smaller canals, the water of which, unfortunately, 
is not always ver)^ clean ; but we shall not mind that, for we see so 
much that is novel and curious to us. In some places, there is a 



112 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

Street on one side of the canal, with shops, but this is not common ; 
generally we pass close to the foundations of the tall houses, and 
when there is an open space we can almost always see a church 
standing back in it. We continually pass under little bridges ; at 
one corner we shall see as many as five, close together. These 
connect small streets and squares, and there are always people on 
them. If the day is warm we shall see plenty of Venetian boys 
swimming in the canals, wearing nothing but a pair of light trousers, 
and they care so little for our approach that we are afraid our gon- 
dolas will run over some of them. The urchins are very quick and 
active, however, and we might as well try to touch a fish as one of 
them. I once saw a Venetian girl about sixteen years old, who was 
sitting upon the steps of a house, teaching her young brother to 
swim. The little fellow was very small, and she had tied a cord 
around his waist, one end of which she held in her hand. She 
would let the child get into the water and paddle away as well as 
he could. When he seemed tired, or when he had gone far enough, 
she pulled him in. She looked very much as if she were fishing, 
with a small boy for bait. 

We come out into the open water at that part of Venice which 
lies below the end of the Grand Canal ; but just before we do so 
we pass between the tall walls of a great palace on the right, and 
a dark, gloomy building on the left. High above our heads the 
second stories of these buildings are connected by a covered bridge, 
which many of us will easily recognize as the Bridge of Sighs, 
of which we have read so often and seen so many pictures. 
The palace is the Palace of the Doges, in which state prisoners 
used to be tried ; and the gloomy building is the prison, into 
which the condemned came across the Bridge of Sighs, often 
taking their last view of the world through the little windows in 
its sides. 



IN FLORENCE AND VENICE. 



113 



~^ As we pass out into the broad waters of the harbor, we turn 
to the right and have a fine view of the water-front of the Doges' 
Palace, which is a very handsome and very peculiar building, orna- 
mented somewhat in the Moorish style. The lower part of the 
front has a yellowish tinge, 
shaded off into light pink 
toward the top. We next 
pass a wide open space, reach- 
ing far back beyond the 
palace, and at the foot of 
this are long rows of steps, 
where great numbers of gon- 
dolas are lying crowded to- 
gether, waiting to be hired. 
Near by are two columns, one 
surmounted by the winged 
lion of St. Mark, the patron 
saint of Venice, and the 
other by a rather curious 
group representing a saint 
killing a crocodile. At the 
other end of this open space, 
which is called the Piazzetta, 
we see, rising high above 
everything else in Venice, 

the tall and beautiful bell-tower. This is in the Piazza San Marco, 
the great central point of the city ; and the next thing we shall 
do is to come here on foot and see what is to be seen. 

When we start upon this walk, we leave our hotel by the back 
door, and, after twisting about through narrow passages, we soon 
find ourselves in a quite wide and pretty street, filled with shops 




THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS. 



114 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

and people. The pavement is very smooth and clean, being one 
wide foot-walk, and we can straggle about as we please, without 
any fear of being run over. I do not believe the Venetians indulge 
in wheeled vehicles, even to the extent of a wheelbarrow. Cross- 
ing a bridge and going through a vaulted passage, we enter the 
great piazza. This is paved with broad flagstones; and around 
three sides of it are shops, the best in Venice, where one can buy 
almost anything a reasonable traveller could desire. There are also 
a good many cafes, or restaurants, here, and in front of them, out 
in the piazza, are hundreds of little chairs and tables, at which 
people sit and drink coffee. This is a very busy and lively place> 
and on several evenings in the week a military band plays here,, 
while the people promenade up and down, or sit and listen to it. 
To the right, near the end opposite to which we enter, is the bell- 
tower which we have seen ; to the left is a tower with a great clock 
in the face of it, on the top of which are two life-size iron figures^ 
which strike the hours with hammers they hold in their hands. In 
front of us, stretching across the whole width of the piazza, is the 
Church of St. Mark, which, at a little distance, looks more like a 
painted picture than an actual building. The Venetians are very 
fond of color, and have shown this by the way they have decorated 
their cathedral ; the whole front seems a mass of frescos, mosaics, 
windows, and ornaments. Some of the mosaics are very large and 
artistic, and are bright with red, purple, and gold. In front of 
the cathedral are three very tall fiagstaffs, painted a bright red, 
which have been standing here over three hundred years. When 
we enter the cathedral, we shall find that it is different from any 
church that we have yet seen. It is decorated in the most mag- 
nificent and lavish style, somewhat in the gorgeous fashion of the 
East. The floor is covered with mosaic work, and the ceilings, 
walls, columns, and altars are richly adorned with gold and bronze 



IN FLORENCE AND VENICE, 



115 



and many-colored marbles, and some of this ornamental work is 
six or seven hundred years old. 
On every side we find unexpected 
and picturesque galleries, recesses 
with altars, stairways, and columns, 
and out-of-the-way corners lighted 
through the stained glass of many- 
colored windows. There are, in all, 
about five hundred columns in and 
about this church. 

In front, over the principal 
entrance, we see the four famous 
bronze horses of St. Mark's ; and 
if the Venetian children, or even 
grown people, do not know what a 
horse is like, all they have to do is 
to look up at these high-mettled 



UUlWM iHlliiUl 




€gV 



ST. MARK S AND THE CAMPANILE. 



ii6 



PERSONALLY CONDUCTED, 



coursers, which, although rather stiff of Hmb, have been great trav- 
ellers, having seen Rome and Constantinople, and even visited Paris. 
As we come out again into 



the piazza, we shall be greatly 
tempted to stay here, for it is a 
lively place. We certainly must 
stop long enough to allow some 
of our younger companions to 
feed the pigeons of St. Mark, 
which, if they see any of us with 
the little paper cornucopias filled 
with corn, which are sold 
here to visitors, will come ^>v5:^ 
to us by the hundreds, '^'^■^^ 




FEEDING THE PIGEONS IN THE SQUARE OF ST. MARK'S. 



IN FLORENCE AND VENICE. i i 7 

settling on our heads and shoulders, and crowding about us like a 
ilock of chickens. For more than six hundred years pigeons have 
been cared for and fed here by the people of Venice ; and as these 
which we see are the direct descendants of the pigeons of the 
thirteenth century, they belong to very old families indeed. 

To the right of the cathedral is the Doges' Palace, and this 
we shall now visit. We pass under a beautiful double colonnade 
into a large interior court, where, at about four o'clock in the 
afternoon, we may see numbers of Venetian girls and women 
coming to get water from a celebrated well or cistern here. Each 
girl has two bright copper pails, in which she carries the water, 
and we shall find it amusing to watch them for a few minutes. 
There are two finely sculptured bronze cisterns in the yard, but 
these are not used now. We then go up a grand staircase, and 
ascend still higher by a stairway called the Scala d'Oro, once 
used only by the nobles of Venice. We now wander through the 
great halls and rooms where the doges once held their courts and 
councils. Enormous pictures decorate the walls. One of them, 
by Tintoretto, is said to be the largest oil-painting in the world. 
We shall take a look into the dreadful dungeons of which we 
read so much in Venetian history, and we shall cross the Bridge of 
Sighs, although we cannot enter the prison on the other side ; the 
doors there are closed and locked, the building still being used as a 
prison. 

Ever so much more shall we do in Venice. We shall go 
in gondolas, and see the old dock-yards where the ships of the 
Crusaders were fitted out ; we shall visit the Academy of Fine 
Arts, where we may study some of the finest works of that most 
celebrated of all Venetians, the painter Titian ; we shall take a 
steamboat to the Lido, an island out at sea where the citizens go 
to bathe and to breathe the sea air ; we shall go out upon the 



Il8 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

broad Giudecca, a wide channel between Venice and one of its 
suburbs ; we shall explore churches and palaces ; and, above all, we 
shall float by daylight and by moonlight, if there happens to be a 
moon, over the canals, under the bridges, and between the tall and 
picturesque walls and palaces, which make Venice the strange 
and delightful city that she is. 



VII. 

A MOUNTAIN TOP, AND HOW WE GET THERE. 

THE mountain to which we are now going is in Switzerland — 
that country which contains more celebrated mountains, more 
beautiful mountains, more accessible mountains, and, I may 
add, more useful mountains, than any other country in the world. 
There is no part of Switzerland where mountains are not to be 
seen ; and to travel in that country it is generally necessary to cross 
the mountains, to go around their sides, or to go through them. 
Switzerland, indeed, may be said to be a great deal larger than 
would be supposed, from the very limited extent of its boundary 
lines, because so much of the surface is piled up into the air, in 
the shape of mountains. If it were flattened out, it would overrun 
great parts of the surrounding countries. 

These vast eminences, which lie in chains and groups all over 
the country, are called Alps, and they are divided into three classes 
— ^the High Alps, the Middle Alps, and the Lower Alps. The first 
of these divisions consists of those mountains the tops of which 
rise above the snow line, which is about eight thousand feet above 
the sea. The portions of a mountain which are higher than this 
imaginary line are covered with snow which never melts, even in 
summer. The Middle Alps are those which raise themselves above 
the height at which all trees cease to grow, or four thousand five 
hundred feet above the sea. The Lower Alps are more than two 
thousand feet high, but do not rise to the altitude of the last 
division. 



I20 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

The word alp means a mountain pasture, and many of the lower 
mountains, as well as great portions of the sides of the higher 
ones, are covered with rich grass, on which, during the summer 
time, great numbers of cattle graze. In queer little chalets, or 
Swiss huts, which look as if they were nearly all roof, scattered 
here and there upon the grassy sides of the mountains, live the 
people, who attend to the cattle, and make butter and cheese. 

Nothing can be more picturesque than some of these Alpine 
pastures, with their great slopes of rich green, dotted here and 
there with dark-red chalets. The cattle wander about over the 
grass, and sometimes, on the rocks, we see a girl blowing a horn 
to call together her flock of goats. Beautiful flowers of various 
colors spring up on every side, the air is warm and pleasant, and 
everything gives the idea of a lovely summer scene ; while just 
above, in the hollow of a ravine, to which we could walk in ten 
minutes, lies a great mass of white and glittering snow, which 
never melts. 

Almost all persons who travel in Switzerland have a great desire 
to go to the top of at least one of the towering peaks they see 
about them, and mountain ascensions are very common and pop- 
ular. Some go up one kind of mountain, and some another; and 
the kind is generally determined by their spirit of enterprise, their 
general health, and the strength of their legs. There is such a 
choice of mountains in Switzerland, and such a variety of ways of 
going to the top of them, that there are few persons who cannot 
make an ascension, if they desire it. 

The highest of all the mountains in Europe is Mont Blanc, 
which towers fifteen thousand seven hundred and thirty-one feet 
into the air. Although this great mountain is not in Switzerland, 
but in Savoy, it is very near the Swiss boundary line, and is plainly 
visible from Geneva. It is considered one of the principal sights 



A MOUNTAIN TOP, AND HOW WE GET THERE. I2I 

of that charming Httle city, and many travellers never see it from 
any other point. Although many people ascend Mont Blanc every 
year, the undertaking requires a great degree of muscular as well 
as nervous strength. The top of Mont Blanc cannot be reached 
in less than two days, and fine weather is absolutely necessary, for 
in storms or fogs the climbers would be apt to lose their way, and 
this would be very dangerous. Some years ago a party of eleven 
persons lost their lives on Mont Blanc in consequence of being 
overtaken by a storm. The first day the traveller ascends about 
ten thousand feet, to a place called the Grands Mulets. Here, in 
a little stone hut, he passes the night, or rather part of it, for he is 
obliged to start again in the very small hours of the next morning. 
When the top is reached, and one stands on the highest peak of 
that vast mass of eternal snow, he has the proud satisfaction of 
being there; but he does not find that the highest point in Switzer- 
land gives him the grandest view. The surrounding mountains 
and landscape are at so great a distance that sometimes they are 
not seen at all, and it is only in a very clear atmosphere that you 
get an idea of the mountain chains which lie about Mont Blanc. 

The ascent is, also, not a cheap pleasure. No person is allowed 
to go up with less than two guides, and each of these must be paid 
a hundred francs, or twenty dollars. Then a porter is required to 
carry provisions and extra clothing, and he must be paid fifty 
francs. At the little hut, at Grands Mulets, the climber is charged 
more for his accommodation than he would have to pay at a first- 
class New York hotel; and if he thinks to economize by making a 
supper and breakfast out of the provisions he has brought with 
him, he is charged five dollars for his bed. It is of no use to try 
to get the better of a person who keeps a hut hotel ten thousand 
feet in the air, where there is no opposition. If one does not like 
the terms, he may sleep in the snow. When a party goes up, the 



122 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

expenses of each member are somewhat lessened ; but the trip is, 
in any case, a costly one. For this reason, and on account of the 
hardships and dangers incurred in climbing its vast and snowy 
steeps, the majority of tourists are content to gaze upon the tower- 
ing heights of Mont Blanc without attempting to ascend them. 

The more dangerous peaks of Switzerland, such as the Matter- 
horn, are only ascended by skilful and practised mountain-climb- 
ers, and even these often meet with disaster. On the first ascent 
of the Matterhorn, four persons lost their lives by falling the dread- 
ful distance of four thousand feet ; and not far from this mountain 
is a little cemetery containing the graves of travellers who have 
perished in climbing this and neighboring heights. But there are 
mountains in Switzerland the summits of which can be reached 
by persons capable of sustaining ordinary fatigue, and they are 
ascended every summer by hundreds of travellers, many of whom 
are ladies. The latter sometimes prove themselves very steady and 
enduring climbers, and in Switzerland it very often happens that 
when a boy starts out on an excursion he cannot tell his sister that 
she must stay at home that day, because he is going to climb a 
mountain. Give a girl an alpenstock — a long stick with a spike in 
the end — a pair of heavy boots with rough nails in the soles, and 
if she be in good health, and accustomed to exercise, she can climb 
very high up in the world on a Swiss mountain. 

But, although a fine view may be obtained from a mountain six, 
eight, or ten thousand feet high, and although the ascent may not 
be really dangerous, it is of no use to assert that it is an easy thing 
to go up such mountains ; and there are few of them on which 
there are not some places, necessary to pass, where a slip would 
make it extremely unpleasant for the person slipping. There are 
a great many travellers, not used to climbing, or not able to do so, 
whose nerves are not in that perfect order which would enable 



A MOUNTAIN TOP, AND HOW WE GET THERE, 123 

them to stand on the edge of even a moderately high precipice 
without feehng giddy ; and yet these people would like very much 
to have a view from a mountain-top, and they naturally feel inter- 
ested when they find that there is in Switzerland a mountain, and 
a high one, too, from which a magnificent view may be obtained, 
that can be ascended without any fatigue or any danger. 

To this mountain we are now going. It is called the Rigi, and 
it is situated on the northern bank of the Lake of Lucerne, or, as 
the Swiss call it, " The Lake of the Four Forest Cantons ; " and 
there is, probably, no lake in the world more beautiful, or sur- 
rounded by grander scenery. It is also full of interest historically, 
for its shores were the scenes of the first efforts for Swiss inde- 
pendence. On one of its arms, the Lake of Uri, we are shown the 
place where William Tell sprang on the rocks when escaping from 
the boat of the tyrant Gessler ; and in the little village of Altorf, 
not far away, he shot the apple from his son's head. 

At the edge of the lake, at the very foot of the Rigi, is the 
small town of Vitznau, and it is to this place that the people 
who wish to ascend the mountain betake themselves, by steam- 
boat. On the other side of the mountain there is another small 
town, called Arth, where tourists coming from the north begin 
their ascent; but we shall go up from Lake Lucerne, and start 
from Vitznau. Arrived at this town, we find ourselves at the 
foot of a towering mountain, which stretches for miles to the east 
and west, so that it is more like a short mountainous chain than a 
single eminence. Its loftiest peak is five thousand nine hundred 
and six feet — about the height of our own Mount Washington, in 
the White Mountains. 

In preparing to climb the Rigi, it is not necessary for us 
to adopt the costume usually worn by mountain climbers in 
Switzerland, which, in the case of men and boys, consists of a 



124 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

very short coat, knickerbocker trousers buttoned at the knee, heav}r 
woollen stockings, sto.ut laced boots with the soles covered with 
projecting nails, a little knapsack on the back, and a long alpen- 
stock in the hand. We need not carry any provisions, but it is 
necessary to take some extra wraps with us, for at the top it is 
often very cold ; but although the mountain is very high, and its 
top rises above the limit of the growth of trees, it does not reach 
to the line of eternal snow. 

There are no icy slopes up which we must scramble ; there are 
no crevasses, reaching down hundreds of feet into the heart of the 
mountain, over which we must slowly creep by means of a plank or 
ladder ; there are no narrow footpaths, with a towering wall of rock 
on one side and a terrible precipice yawning on the other ; there 
are no wide and glistening snow-fields, on which, if one of us slips 
and falls, he may slide away so swiftly and so far that he may never 
be seen again ; there are no vast fissures covered with newly-fallen 
snow, on which, if a person carelessly treads, he disappears forever. 

There is also no necessity of our walking in a line with a long 
rope tied from one to the other, so that if one of us slips the others 
may hold back and keep him from falling or sliding very far. None 
of these dangers, which are to be encountered by those who ascend 
the higher Alps and many of the lower Swiss mountains, are to 
be met with here; and the precautions which those persons must 
not fail to take are not required on the Rigi. All that is necessary 
when we are ready to make the ascent is to buy our tickets and 
take our seats in a wide and comfortable railway car. There is a 
funny little locomotive at one end of this car, and there is a line 
of rails which leads by various curves and windings and steep 
ascents up to the top of the mountain. The locomotive will do 
the climbing, and all we have to do is to sit still, and look about, 
and see what there is to be seen. 




SCENES ON THE RIGI RAILWAY. 



A MOUNTAIN TOP, AND HOW WE GET THERE. 127 

This railway and the Httle locomotive are very different from 
those in ordinary use on level ground. The rails are about the 
usual distance apart, but between them are two other very strong 
rails, lying near to each other, and connected by a series of stout 
iron bars, like teeth. Under the locomotive is a cogwheel which 
fits into these teeth, and as it is turned around by the engine it 
forces the locomotive up the steep incline. There is but one car 
to each train, and this is always placed above the engine, so that 
it is pushed along when it is going up, and held back when it is 
coming down. The car is not attached to the locomotive ; so that, 
if anything happens to the latter,' the car can be instantly stopped 
by means of a brake which acts on the teeth between the rails, 
and the locomotive can go on down by itself. There is no pqwer 
required in going down, and all the engine has to do is to hold 
back sturdily, and keep the car from coming down too fast. This 
may be the reason, perhaps, why persons are charged only half 
as much for coming down as they are charged for going up. 

The locomotive does not stand up straight in the ordinary way, 
but leans backward, and when on level ground it looks very much 
as if it had broken down at one end ; but when it is on the steep 
inclines of the mountain, its depressed end, which always goes 
first, is then as high as the other, and the smoke-stack stands up 
perpendicularly. The seats in the cars, too, slope so that the pas- 
sengers will not slip off them when one end of the car is tilted up. 
The ascents of the road are often quite surprising, and one won- 
ders how the locomotive is ever going to get the car, containing 
forty or fifty people, up those steep inclines. But up it always 
goes, steadily and resolutely, for the little engine has the power 
of one hundred and twenty horses. 

The whole road is about four and a half miles long, and 
although the locomotive is so strong, it only goes at the rate of 



128 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

three miles an hour, so that an active person walking by its side 
might keep up with it for a time, though he would be likely to be 
very tired before he had gone far. 

As we slowly ascend the Rigi, in this comfortable way, we find 
that we are taking one of the most interesting and novel excursions 
of our lives. If the weather be fine, there breaks upon the eye, as 
we rise higher and higher, a succession of those views of moun- 
tain, lake, and forest, which only can be had from an elevated posi- 
tion ; and as one of these views suddenly appears, and then is cut 
off by a turn in the road, to be presently succeeded by another, we 
have a foretaste of what we are going to enjoy when we arrive at 
the top. The scenery immediately about the railway is also very 
interesting, and some of the incidents of the trip are not only 
novel, but startling. Sometimes the little train traverses regions 
of wild forest and rocks ; sometimes it winds along the edge of 
savage precipices ; now it passes into a dark and dreary tunnel, 
from which it emerges to take an airy flight over a long and nar- 
row bridge, which we in the car cannot see beneath us, and where 
we look far down upon the tree-tops we are passing over. Through 
wild and desolate scenes, by forests, rocks, and waterfalls, we pass,, 
the little locomotive always puffing and pushing vigorously behind 
us, until we reach a level plateau, on which stands a large and 
handsome hotel, with numerous outbuildings. This is called the 
Rigi Kaltbad, and the situation is a very beautiful one. Many 
people come here to spend days, and even weeks, enjoying the 
mountain walks and the grand scenery. 

But, after a short stop at the station here, our train passes 
on, and before long we reach another plateau, much higher up, 
which is called Rigi Staffel, where there is another large hoteL 
Then, on we go, up a steep ledge, on the edge of a cliff which it 
seems impossible that any train could ascend, until we reach the 



A MOUNTAIN TOP, AND HOW WE GET THERE. 129 

Rigi Kulm, the highest part of the mountain. When we aUght 
from the train, we see a large and handsome hotel, with several 
smaller buildings surrounding it, but we find we are not on the 
very loftiest peak of the Kulm. To this point we must walk, but 
there are broad and easy paths leading to it, and the ascent is not 
very great, and does not require many minutes. 

When we walk past the hotel, and the uppermost part of the 
Kulm comes into view, the first thing that catches our attention is 
a long line of wide-spread white umbrellas. As we rise higher, we 
see that these umbrellas are not held by anybody, but each one 
is fastened over a small stand, containing articles of carved wood 
■or ivory, boxes, bears, birds, spoons, forks, and all those useful 
and ornamental little things which the Swiss make so well and 
are so anxious to sell. There are so many of these booths and 
stands, with the women and men attending to them, that it seems 
as if a little fair, or bazaar, is being held on the top of the moun- 
tain. 

We shall doubtless be surprised that the first thing that attracts 
our attention at this famous place should be preparations to make 
money out of us ; but everywhere through Switzerland the traveller 
finds people who wish to sell him something, or who continually 
volunteer to do something for which they wish him to pay. As he 
drives along the country roads, little girls throw bunches of wild 
flowers into his carriage, and then run by its side expecting some 
money in return. By the roadside, in the most lonely places, he 
will find women and girls sitting behind little tables on which they 
are making lace, which, with a collection of tiny Swiss chalets, and 
articles of carved wood, they are very eager to sell. When the 
road passes near a precipitous mountain-side, he will find a man 
with a long Alpine horn, who awakens the echoes and expects 
some pennies. At another place a fenced pathway leads into a 
9 



I30 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

little wood, and a notice informs him that he may enter and get 
a view of the Black Falls for four cents. 

When I was at Grindelwald, a little village among the Higher 
Alps, I went part way up a mountain to visit a glacier. These 
masses of ice, which lie in the ravines of the mountains, are often 
of great depth, extending downward for hundreds of feet, and are 
formed by the melting of the snow in the lower part of the snow- 
fields above. The water trickles down when the sun shines on it, 
and is frozen at night ; and thus, in the course of centuries, a vast 
and solid mass of ice is formed which is sometimes fifteen hundred 
feet thick. In the glacier which I visited, a long tunnel had been 
cut, through which a person could comfortably walk, and this led 
to a fairly large room hewn in the very heart of the glacier, and 
called the Ice Grotto. There were lamps placed here and there, 
by which this frigid passage was dimly lighted, and the sensation 
of finding one's self in the middle of a vast block of ice was truly 
novel. The walls and roof of the tunnel were transparent for a 
considerable distance, and I could look into the very substance of 
the clear blue ice around me. I followed the man who acted as 
my guide to the end of the tunnel, and then we mounted a few 
steps into the grotto, which was lighted by a single lamp. The 
moment I set foot inside this wonderful chamber, with walls, roof, 
and floor of purest ice, I heard a queer tinkling and thumping in 
one corner, and looking there, I saw two old women, each playing 
on a doleful little zither. They looked like two horrible old 
witches of the ice. Of course I knew that they were playing for 
my benefit ; and I wondered if they always sat there in that enor- 
mous refrigerator, waiting for the visitors who might enter and 
give them a few centimes in return for their mournful strumming. 
But when I went out, I found that the old women soon followed, 
and I suppose they go into the glacier and ensconce themselves in 



A MOUNTAIN TOP, AND BOW WE GET THERE. 13 1 

their freezing retreat whenever they see a tourist coming up the 
mountain-side. 

And now, having recovered from our sHght surprise at seeing 
the signs of traffic on the very top of the mountain, we pass the 
booths and advance to a wooden railing, which is buih on the 
northern edge of the Kulm, The first thing that strikes our eyes 
is a vast plain, lying far below us, which, to some people, seems at 
first like an immense marsh, partly green and partly covered with 
dark patches, and with pools of water here and there. But when 
the eye becomes accustomed to this extent of view, we see that 
those dark patches are great forests ; that those pools are lakes, on 
the shores of which towns and cities are built ; and this plain before 
us is the whole of North Switzerland. 

As we turn and look about us, we see a panorama of three 
hundred miles in circuit. To the south lies a mighty and glorious 
range of snow-clad Alps, one hundred and twenty miles in length. 
We see the white peaks glittering in the sun, the darker glaciers 
in the ravines, the wide snow-fields, clear and distinct. Between 
us and these giants are lower mountains, some green and wooded, 
some bold and rocky. Towns, villages, and chalets are dotted 
everywhere in the valleys and on the plains. 

The view is one of the grandest and most beautiful in Europe. 

The north side of the Rigi is almost precipitous, and as we 
again lean over the railing and look down its dizzy slopes, we see 
lying at our very feet the whole Lake of Zug. Three large towns 
are upon its banks, and a number of villages. A steamboat, appar- 
ently about the size of a spool of thread, is making its way across 
the lake. To the left, a great part of the Lake of Lucerne is visible, 
with the city of Lucerne at one end of it, its pinnacles, towers, and 
walls plainly in view. Away to the north, we see a portion of the 
city of Zurich, although the greater part of it is hidden by an inter- 



132 



PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 



vening hill. On the northern horizon lies the famous Black For 
est, and the long line of the Jura Mountains is visible to the west. 
Looking here and there, we can count, in all, thirteen lakes. 

The top of the Kulm is rounded and grassy, and we can walk 
about and look at the wonderful views from various points. At 
one place there is a high wooden platform, to which we ascend by 




THE RIGI. — SHOWING RAILWAY TO THE TOP OF THE MOUNTAIN. 



steps, at the side of which hangs a little box with a hole in the top, 
with an inscription in three languages asking us not to forget to 
remember the owner of this belvedere. From this platform, which 
is provided with a railing and benches, we can get a clear view in 
every direction ; and stuck about, in little sockets, are small colored 
glasses, through which we may look" at the landscape. When we 
hold a yellow one before our eyes, mountains and plains seem 



A MOUNTAIN TOP, AND HOW WE GET THERE. 133 



glowing beneath a golden sky ; a red one gives us an Idea that the 
whole world is on fire ; while through a blue one everything looks 
cold, dreary, and cheerless. 

But we quickly put down the glasses. We want no such things 
as these to help us enjoy those glorious scenes. 

While we stand and gaze from the wide-spread plain to the 
stupendous mountain ranges, the sun begins to set ; and as it 
sinks below the horizon, the white peaks and snowy masses of the 
long line of Alps are gradually tinged with that beautiful rosy tint 
which is called the after-glow. Never were mountains more beau- 
tiful than these now appear, and we remain and look upon them 
until they fade away into the cold, desolate, and awful regions that 
they are. 

The view of the sunrise from the Kulm is one of the great 
sights enjoyed by visitors, and many persons come to the Rigi on 
purpose to witness it. On fine mornings, hundreds of tourists may 
be seen gathered together at daybreak on the top of the Kulm. It is 
generally very cold at this hour, and they are wrapped in overcoats, 
shawls, and even blankets taken from the beds, although there are 
notices in each of the hotel rooms that this i§ forbidden. But all 
shivering and shaking is forgotten when, one after another, the 
highest snow-peaks are lighted up by the sun, which has not yet 
appeared to view, and when, gradually and beautifully, the whole 
vast landscape is flooded with the glory of the day. 

But the people who go up on the Rigi to make a stay at the 
hotels do not content themselves with gazing at the grand pano- 
rama to be seen from the Kulm. The life and the scenes on the 
mountain itself are full of interest. Its promontories, slopes, and 
valleys are covered with rich grass, over which it is delightful to 
ramble and climb. Below the Rigi Staffel is a beautiful green 
hollow, called the valley of Klosterli ; handsome cattle, with their 



134 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

tinkling bells, ramble over its rich pastures ; and the brown cottages 
of the herdsmen are seen here and there. There is a Capuchin 
monastery and chapel in this valley, which was built nearly two 
hundred years ago, where the Sunday congregation is composed 
of the herdsmen on the mountain. A branch railroad, about four 
miles long, runs on a ridge of the mountain to a promontory 
called the Scheideck, from which an admirable prospect may be 
had, and where there is a hotel ; and from the Kaltbad, which was 
mentioned before, there is a pleasant rural walk toward the other 
end of the Rigi range, to a place called the Kanzli, from which the 
most charming views, near and distant, may be had. 

Never was there a mountain so well adapted to boys and girls 
as the Rigi. Once arrived upon the upper parts of this mountain, 
which stretches far and wide, there is found every inducement for 
scramble, walk, and climb, in places which are not at all dangerous. 
The Rothstock, the Kulm, and other grassy peaks can be ascended ; 
long tramps can be taken through the valleys ; the herdsmen's cot- 
tages and the monastery can be visited — and all this in a mountain 
air which gives one strength, spirit, and appetite. 

The young folk, as well as grown people, are to be seen 
rambling everywhere. One day, as I was walking toward a place 
from which there was a good view, I heard a step behind me, and 
directly I was passed by a regular mountain climber. He was a 
tall young man, with a mighty stride. He wore a flannel shirt, 
with no coat or vest, but these hung at his back from a strap 
around his waist. On his powerful legs were knickerbockers and 
a pair of long red stockings, and in his hand he held a long-pointed 
alpenstock. Up the mountain straight toward the highest point of 
the Kulm, he went, steadily and swiftly as a two-legged engine. He 
was such a man as we would probably meet on the snowy peaks 
of the Higher Alps, if we should happen to be wandering there. 



A MOUNTAIN TOP, AND HOW WE GET THERE. 1 35 

Shortly after this young athlete had passed, I saw, coming 
down the mountain, a lady and her little boy. The youngster, 
about six years old, who marched behind his mother, was equipped 
in true mountaineer style. His little coat hung at his little back ; 
on his little legs he wore knickerbockers and long stockings, and 
on his feet a pair of little hobnailed shoes ; in his hand he carried 
a little alpenstock. His mother was a good walker, but she did 
not leave her boy behind. With strides as long as his little legs 
could make, he followed her bravely down the hill, punching his 
sharp stick into the ground at every step, as if he wished to make 
the mountain feel that he was there. He was just as full of the 
spirit of the Alpine climber, and enjoyed his tramp quite as much, 
as the practised mountaineer who was striding away toward the 
Kulm. 

Girls there were, too, whole parties of them, each with an alpen- 
stock in her hand, on every grassy knoll, on every path through 
the valleys or along the ridges. In ordinary life it is not custom- 
ary for girls and ladies to carry sticks or canes, but some of these 
become so fond of their long alpenstocks that I have seen girls 
with these iron-pointed sticks in their hands, walking about the 
cities of Switzerland, where they were of no more use than a 
third shoe. 

It is not only in fine weather that life on this mountain is to be 
enjoyed. The approach, of a storm is a grand sight ; great clouds 
gathering on the crests of the higher peaks of the mountain chains, 
and sweeping down in battle array upon hills, valleys, and plains. 
Even in the rain, the views have a strange and varied appearance 
which is very attractive ; and every change in the weather produces 
changes in the landscape, sometimes quite novel and unexpected, 
and almost always grand or beautiful. 

There is only one kind of weather in which the Rigi is not 



136 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

attractive. On my third day on the mountain, I was sitting in the 
dining-room of the hotel, taking my midday meal, with about a 
hundred other guests, when I heard a loud groan from one of the 
tables ; then there was another and another ; and, directly, a chorus 
of groans arose from every part of the long dining-room. Look- 
ing about to see what was the matter, I noticed that everybody 
was staring out of the windows. When I looked out I saw a sight 
that was worth seeing, and one that was enough to make anybody 
groan who knew what it meant. A great cloud was coming down 
out of the sky directly upon the Rigi. It was heavy and gray, and 
its form was plainly defined in the clear air around it. When it 
had spread itself above us, almost touching the roof of the house, 
we could see, below its far-reaching edges, the distant landscape 
still sparkling in the sunlight. Then it came down, and blotted us 
out from the view of all the world. To the people below, the top 
of the Rigi was covered with a cloud, and to us there was nothing 
to be seen twenty feet from the window. Now there were no 
views, there were no walks, there was no sitting out-of-doors, there 
was nothing that one came to the Rigi for. No wonder that the 
people groaned. All their plans for outdoor pleasure had been 
brought to a sudden end by this swiftly descending cloud, which 
those who were wise in such matters believed would not soon dis- 
appear. It was evidently the beginning of bad weather, and those 
who remained on the mountain tops must live in the clouds for 
several days. When nothing was to be seen, and nothing was to 
be done, it was a good time to leave the Rigi ; and so, in company 
with a great many other visitors — for it was near the end of the 
^season, and people could not wait for better weather as they could 
have done a few weeks earlier — I took leave of the mountain, know- 
ing very well that the little locomotive could find its way down, 
cloud or no cloud. 



A MOUNTAIN TOP, AND HOW WE GET THERE. 137 

We may not have such an experience as this, but we shall leave 
the Rigi, carrying with us recollections, which no rain could ever 
wash away, of that interesting mountain, with its beautiful green 
slopes and peaks, its magnificent panoramas, its pleasant summer 
life, its picturesque glades, and herds, and — its railway to the top. 



VIIL 



QUEEN PARIS. 



WE have already been in Paris, but we saw very little of it, 
as we were merely passing through the city on our way 
to the south of France ; and my young companions should 
not go home without forming an acquaintance with a city which, 
on account of its importance and unrivalled attractiveness, may be 
called the queen city of the world, just as London, with its wealth, 
its size, and its influence, which is felt all over our globe, is the 
king of cities. In Rome, and In other cities of Italy, we have seen 
what Europe used to be, both in ancient times and in the Middle 
Ages ; but there is no one place which will show us so well what 
Europe is to-day as Paris. 

It is an immense city, being surrounded by ramparts twenty-one 
miles long, and is full of broad and handsome streets, magnificent 
buildings, grand open spaces with fountains and statues, great pub- 
lic gardens and parks free to everybody, and (what is more attrac- 
tive to some people than anything else) it has miles and miles of 
stores and shops, which are filled with the most beautiful and inter- 
esting things that are made or found in any part of the world. All 
these articles are arranged and displayed so artistically, that people 
buy things in Paris which they would never think of buying any- 
where else, simply because they had never before noticed how desir- 
able such things were. But, even if we do not wish to spend any 
money, we can still enjoy the rare and beautiful objects for which 
Paris is famous ; they are nearly all in the shop windows, and we 



QUEEN PARIS. 139 



can walk about and admire them for nothing, and as much as we 
please. 

In many respect^Paris is as lively as Naples ; as grand as Rome ; 
as beautiful, but in a different way, as Venice ; almost as rich in 
remains of the Middle Ages as Florence ; and yet, after all, it will 
remind you of none of those cities. 

Before we visit any particular place in Paris, we shall start out 
to explore the city as a whole ; although I do not mean to say that 
we shall go over the whole of the city. Those of us who choose 
will walk, and that is the best way to see Paris, for we are continu- 
ally meeting with something that we wish to stop and look at ; but 
such as do not wish to take so long a walk may ride in the voitures, 
or public carriages, which abound in the streets of Paris. In fine 
weather, these are convenient little open vehicles, intended to carry 
two persons, though more can be sometimes accommodated. They 
can be hired for two francs (about forty cents) an hour, with the 
addition of a small sum called a pour-boire, to which the driver is 
by custom entitled. Nearly everywhere we may s>^^ ^vcv^ly voihires, 
their drivers looking out for customers. When we want one, we 
do not call for it, nor do we stand on the curbstone and whistle, as 
if we were stopping a Fifth Avenue stage : if no driver sees us so 
that we can beckon to him, we follow the Parisian custom, and, 
going to the edge of the pavement, give a strong hiss between our 
closed teeth. Instantly the nearest cocker, or driver, pulls up his 
horse and looks about him to see where that hiss comes from, and 
when he sees us, he comes around with a sweep in front of us. 

The River Seine runs through Paris, and winds and doubles so 
much that there are seven miles of it within the city walls. It is 
crossed by twenty-seven bridges, and from one of these, the Pont 
de la Concorde, we shall start on our tour throuo-h Paris. The 
upper part of this bridge is built of stones taken from the Bastile 



140 



PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 



prison after its destruction by the enraged people. Thus the Pari- 
sians can feel, when they cross this bridge, that they are treading 
under foot a portion of the building they so greatly abhorred. The 




PONT AND PLACE DE LA CONCORDE. 



view up and down the river is very fine, and gives us a good idea 
of the city we are about to explore. As we cross to the northern 
side of the Seine, on which lies the most important part of Paris, 
we have directly in front of us the great Place de la Concorde, a 



QUEEN PARIS. 141 



fine open square, in the centre of which rises an obeHsk brought 
from Egypt. Here are magnificent fountains, handsome statuary 
on tall pedestals, and crowds of vehicles and foot-passengers cross- 
ing it in every direction, making a picturesque and lively scene. 
This was not always as pleasant a place as it is now, for during the 
great French Revolution the guillotine stood in this square, and 
here were executed two thousand eight hundred persons, amono- 
whom were Queen Marie Antoinette and her husband, Louis 
XVI, To the east of this square extends for a long distance the 
beautiful garden of the Tuileries, which belonged to the royal 
palace of that name, before it was destroyed. This garden is 
shaded by long lines of trees, and adorned with fountains and 
statues. On its southern side is an elevated walk, or terrace, very 
broad and handsome, and about half a mile long. In the reign 
of the Emperor Napoleon the Third, this walk was appropriated to 
the daily exercise of the Prince Imperial. Here the young fellow 
could walk up and down, without being interfered with by the 
people below ; and underneath was a covered passage in which he 
could take long walks in rainy weather. 

On the other side of the great square extends a broad and mag- 
nificent street, a mile and a third in length, called the Avenue des 
Champs Elysees. On each side for nearly half a mile this street 
is bordered by pleasure-grounds, beautifully laid out and planted 
with trees; and for the rest of the way it runs between two double 
rows of trees to the great Arch of Triumph, built by Napoleon 
Bonaparte to commemorate his victories. This arch is like those 
erected by the Roman emperors, and is covered with inscriptions 
and sculptures recording the glorious achievements of the great 
Napoleon. When Paris was taken by the Prussians in the war of 
1 87 1, the German army marched into the city through this arch 
of triumph, and if they wished to humiliate the French people, 



142 



PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 



they could not have thought of a better plan. But the French 
people whom we now see here on fine afternoons do not look at 
all humiliated : they walk about under the trees ; they sit upon 
the thousands of prettily painted iron chairs, which are hired out 
at two cents apiece for a whole day ; they drive up and down in 




THE AVENUE DES CHAMPS ELYSEES. 
The Arch of Triumph itz the distance. 

the iinest carriages that money can buy ; and, so far as we can 
discover by looking at them, they are as well content, and have 
as good an opinion of themselves, as any people in the world. The 
pavement of the street and that of the great square is as smooth 
as a floor, and kept very neat and clean. This is the case, indeed, 
in nearly all the principal streets of Paris, and it is a pleasure to 
drive over their smooth and even pavements. But after a rain it 



QUEEN PARIS. 143 



is not so agreeable to walk across these streets, which are then 
covered with a coating of very sticky white mud. 

On the northern side of the square is a handsome street of 
moderate length, called the Rue Royale. It is filled with fine 
shops, and is very animated and lively. At its upper end stands 
the beautiful Church of the Madeleine, fashioned like a Grecian 
temple. We go up this street, and when we reach the broad space 
about the Madeleine, part of which is occupied as a flower market, 
with long lines of booths crowded with many varieties of blossoms 
and plants, we find ourselves at the beginning of a magnificent line 
of streets, which are called the boulevards of Paris. The word 
boulevards means ramparts or bulwarks, and this long line of 
streets is built where the old ramparts of Paris used to stand. 
Of late, however, the word has been applied to many of the other 
broad and splendid streets for which Paris is famous. This crowded, 
lively, and interesting thoroughfare is over two miles long, and 
is, in fact, but one great street, although it is divided into eleven 
sections, called the Boulevard de la Madeleine, Boulevard des 
Capuclnes, Boulevard des Italiens, etc. These boulevards do not 
extend in a straight line, but make a great sweep to the north, and 
come down again to within a short distance of the river. 

On each side of this wide line of streets are splendid shops and 
stores, cafes, restaurants, and handsome hotels ; and before we have 
gone very far we shall see, standing back in an open space, the 
Grand Opera House of Paris. It is a magnificent building, both 
inside and out ; it is the largest theatre in the world, and covers 
three acres of ground. 

But although the fine buildings and the dazzling show-windows 
full of beautiful objects will continually attract our attention, they 
cannot keep our eyes from the wonderful life and activity of the 
streets. The broad sidewalks, of course, are crowded with people. 



144 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

though no more than we often meet on Broadway, in New York; 
but the throng is peculiar, because it is made up of such a variety 
of people, who seem to be doing so many different things — ladies 
and gentlemen dressed in the latest fashions; working-men in blue 
blouses ; working-women, always without any head-covering ; boys 
and men with wooden shoes ; gentlemen, and often ladies, sitting 
at little tables placed on the sidewalk in front of cafes, drinking 
coffee, or taking some other refreshment ; soldier-policemen march- 
ing up and down, and looking very inoffensive ; and now and then a 
priest in long black clothes and a broad felt hat. But yet among 
this multitude of people we seldom meet any one who is dashing 
along as if he were trying to catch a train or a boat, or to do some- 
thing else for which he is afraid there is not time enough. Here 
and there we see, standing close to the curbstone, a little round 
wooden house, prettily ornamented, inside of which a woman sits 
selling newspapers, which are displayed at the open window. 
These houses are called kiosks, and they take the place of news- 
paper stands in our country. As far as possible, the French like 
to make their useful things ornamental, and these kiosks add very 
much to the appearance of the streets. 

Occasionally we come to the opening of a covered arcade, 
extending a long distance back from the street, and crov/ded on 
both sides with shops, the pavement in the centre being occupied 
only by foot-passengers. These arcades are called passages, and 
are among the most interesting features of Paris. The shops here 
are generally small, but they display their goods in a very enticing 
way. Some of the passages contain cafes and restaurants, and one 
of them is almost entirely devoted to the sale of toys and presents 
for children. 

In another passage we shall find a very wonderful wax-work 
show, which, although it is not so large as the famous exhibition 



QUEEN PARIS. 1 45 



of Madame Tussaud in London, is, in many respects, much more 
interesting. There are figures here of all kinds, many of cele- 
brated people ; but, instead of being set up stififly around a room, 
they are arranged in groups in separate compartments, and in 
natural positions, as if they were saying or doing something. In 
the centre of the room is a studio, in which the artist, who looks 
as natural as life, is painting a picture of a girl standing at a little 
distance from him, while behind him another girl is peeping over 
his shoulder to see how he is getting on ; and she looks so life- 
like that we can almost expect to hear her say what she thinks 
about it. Near by, some ladies and gentlemen are looking over 
portfolios of drawings, other visitors are talking together and 
examining the pictures on the walls, while a servant is bringing in 
wax refreshments which look quite good enough to eat and drink. 
This scene will give us an excellent idea of life in the studio of 
a French artist. There are all kinds of scenes represented here, 
and some, especially in the basement, are of a gloomy and sombre 
kind. One of these represents a body of policemen bursting into 
a room occupied by a band of counterfeiters engaged in making 
false money. The dismay of the counterfeiters, disturbed in their 
work, and the desperate fight that has already begun, are very 
startling and real, and we almost feel that we ought to move out 
of the way. 

The roadway of the boulevards is filled with vehicles of every 
kind, and among these we particularly notice the great omnibuses, 
much larger than any we have, and each drawn by three powerful 
horses, generally white. These omnibuses have seats on top as 
well as inside, and a very good way to see the city is to take a ride 
upon one of those upper seats. The omnibuses are almost always 
well filled, but never crowded ; no one being taken on after every 
seat is occupied, and a fixed number are standing on the outside 



146 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

platform. They stop at regular stations, not very far apart, and 
the people who wait here for them are provided with numbered 
tickets, which they procure from the agent at the station, so that 
when the omnibus comes, as many as can be accommodated take 
their seats in regular order, according to the number of their 
tickets. In this way, there is no crowding and pushing to get in, 
and those who are left behind have the best chance at the next 
omnibus. 

In other parts of the city of Paris, there are street railways, 
called' here tramways, which are managed very much in the same 
manner as the omnibuses. These vehicles are convenient and 
cheap, but not very agreeable ; and it is much pleasanter to walk 
and pay nothing, or to take a voiture and pay thirty cents for two 
people for a drive from any point of the city to another. 

And thus we go on along the boulevards, passing the celebrated 
gateways, Porte St. Martin and Porte St. Denis, until we come to 
the great open space once occupied by the Bastile, in which now 
rises a tall, sculptured column surmounted by a figure of Liberty. 
Those who have studied and remembered modern French history 
will take a great interest in this spot, where so many important 
events occurred. 

Here end the boulevards. We now turn toward the river, and 
soon reach a wide street called the Rue de Rivoli, one side of 
which is lined with shops under arcades, which, in some respects, 
are more attractive than any we have yet seen. At many of these 
photographs are sold, and their windows are crowded with pictures. 
All sorts of useful and cheap things are to be found here, and a 
walk through this street is like a visit to a museum. On the other 
side of the street is the great palace of the Louvre, which extends 
for some distance, and after that we come to the garden of the 
Tuileries. When we have walked through this magnificent pleas- 



QUEEN PARIS. 147 



ure-ground, we shall reach the point from which we started on 
our tour. 

We shall take many other walks and drives through the streets 
of Paris, and, wherever we go, we shall find in each an interest of 
a different sort. On the southern side of the river is the Latin 
Quarter, where there are some celebrated schools and academies, 
which, for centuries, have been the resort of students. Here we 
shall find narrow streets, crowded footways, and shops full of all 
sorts of antiquarian articles, and odds and ends of every kind, 
some of which seem to have no other value than that they are old, 
while other things are very valuable and often very cheap. 

Here, too, we find book-shops, and shops where prints and 
enofravinCTs are sold, and all with their windows and even their 
outside walls crowded with the best things they have to offer. 
Along the river front are rows of stalls covered with second-hand 
books at very low prices, and those of us who are collectors of old 
coins can find them here by the peck or bushel. In this quarter, 
also, are some immense dry-goods and variety stores, which are 
worth going to see. One of them is so large, and there is so much 
to see in it, that, at three o'clock every day, a guide who can speak 
English sets out to conduct visitors through the establishment and 
to explain its various details. 

In nearly every quarter of Paris, on either side of the river, 
we shall find shops, shops, shops; people, people, people; life, 
activity, and bustle of every sort. Splendid buildings meet our 
eyes at every turn — churches, private residences, places of business, 
and public edifices. In the western portion of the city, near the 
Arc de Triomphe, there are fewer shops, these streets being gen- 
erally occupied by fine private residences. But there is very little 
monotony in Paris; no quarter is entirely given up to any one 
thing. We cannot walk far in any direction without soon coming 



148 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

. . ■■ ^ »_ 

upon some object of interest. The parks, palaces, public monu- 
ments, gardens, grand and beautiful churches, fountains of various 
designs, great market-places, squares, and buildings of historic 
interest or architectural beauty, are sometimes collected in groups; 
but, as a rule, they are scattered all over the city. 

When we have satisfied ourselves with what Paris itself is, 
although we have not seen anything like the \vhole of it, we shall 
set about visiting some of its especial attractions. And the first 
place we shall go to will be the great palace of the Louvre. This 
palace, with its courts and buildings, covers some twenty acres. 
Here have lived kings, queens, and princes ; but now the palace 
has been made into a museum for the people, and its grand halls 
and galleries are filled with paintings, statuary, and other works of 
art, ancient and modern, from all parts of the world. It would 
take many, many visits even to give one look at every painting 
and statue in the Louvre; but if we have not much time to spare, 
it is possible to see the best things without walking ourselves to 
death through the never-ending galleries. Some of the finest 
paintings of Raphael, Da Vinci, Murillo, and other great masters 
are collected in one room, which many persons would think well 
worth coming to Paris to see, if they saw nothing else. The 
original statue of the noble Venus de Milo is in the sculpture 
galleries ; and in the Egyptian museum, which is so full that the 
history of Egypt may be studied here almost as well as in that land 
itself, we shall see a large stone sphinx which once belonged to 
that king of Egypt from whom the children of Israel fled, and the 
inscriptions on it show that it must have been a very old sphinx 
even when Pharaoh had it. In another part of the museum are 
three life-size figures in stone, which are portraits of persons who 
lived before the great pyramids were built, about four thousand 
years before the Christian era. 



QUEEN PARIS. 149 



Altogether, the collections of the Louvre are among the finest 
and most extensive in the world, and they have a great advantage 
over thfe galleries of the Vatican at Rome : in the Vatican some of 
the galleries are open on one day, and some on another; some 
requiring one kind of order of admission, some another, and 
others yet another, and these permits are sometimes troublesome 
to obtain. But the galleries of the Louvre are free to all, rich or 
poor, who may choose to walk into them, on any day of the week 
except Monday, which is always reserved for cleaning, dusting, and 
putting things in order. 

In the old palace of the Luxembourg, a very much smaller 
building, there is another valuable collection of paintings, but all 
by French artists; and the Hotel de Cluny, not far away, is a 
small palace of the Middle Ages, and is one of the quaintest, 
queerest, pleasantest, and most home-like palaces we are likely to 
meet with. It is now a museum, containing over ten thousand 
interesting objects, mostly relating to mediaeval times. Here, 
among the other old-time things, we can see the very carriages and 
sleighs in which the great people of the seventeenth century used to 
ride. Those of us who suppose that we have now left the Romans 
for good must not fail to visit some large baths adjoining this 
palace, built about the end of the third century, when the Romans 
had possession of Gaul. They then had a palace on this spot, and 
felt bound, as the ancient Romans always did, to make themselves 
comfortable with baths and everything of the kind. There are 
other museums and art exhibitions in Paris, but those we have 
seen are the most important ; and it is very pleasant to find that 
they are greatly frequented by the poorer classes of the city, who 
are just as orderly and well-behaved while walking about these 
noble palaces as if they belonged to the highest families of the 
land. In the great garden of the Tuileries, in the courts and gar- 



I50 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

dens attached to the Louvre, the Luxembourg, the Palais Royal, 
and in all the pleasure-grounds of the city, we find the poor people 
enjoying themselves; and in some cases they seem to get more 
good out of these places than do the rich. The old women sit 
knitting in the shade of the trees, the little babies with their 
funny caps toddle about on the walks, the boys and girls have 
their games in the great open spaces around the fountains ; and 
while those who have a cent or two to spare can hire little chairs 
and put them where they like, there are always benches for those 
who have no pennies to spend. The convenience of resting one's 
self in the open air is one of the comforts of Paris. In many 
places along the principal streets there are benches on the side- 
walk, where weary passers-by may rest shaded by the trees. In 
one part of the city, chiefly inhabited by the poor and the working 
people, a fine park has been laid out entirely for their accommoda- 
tion. In very many ways the French Government offers opportu- 
nities to the poor people to enjoy themselves, and it is pleasant to 
see how neat, orderly, and quiet these people are. It is very neces- 
sary that they should be kept in good humor, for when the lower 
classes of Paris become thoroughly dissatisfied, they are apt to rise 
in fierce rebellion, and then down go kings, governments, and palaces. 
On the southern side of the river rises a great gilded dome, 
which glistens in the sun, and may be seen from all parts of Paris. 
This dome belongs to the church attached to the Hotel des Inva- 
lides, or hospital for invalid soldiers, and it covers the tomb of 
Napoleon Bonaparte. This tomb, which is very magnificent and 
imposing, is some distance below the floor of the church, and we 
look down upon it over a circular railing. There we see the hand- 
some sarcophagus, made of a single block of granite weighing sixty- 
seven tons, which contains the remains of a man who conquered 
the greater part of Europe. 



QUEEN PARIS. 



151 



Paris is full of churches, some old and some new, and many 




THE SARCOPHAGUS. 

grand or 

b eaut i f u 1 ; 

but no one 

of them is so 

interestingfas 

the f a mous 

cathedral of 

Notre Dame, 

which stands 

on an island 

in the Seine, 

called La 

Cite, or the 

Island of the 

City, because 

here the orie- 

inal Paris was 

built. This great church is not so attractive in appearance as some 



THE TOMB OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE IN THE CHURCH OF THE 
INVALIDES. 



152 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

that we have seen elsewhere, but it is connected with so many 
events in the history of France, that, as we wander about under 
its vaulted arches and through its pillared aisles, and as we look 
upon the strange and sometimes startling sculptures in the chapels, 
the curious wood-carvings about the choir, the immense^circular 
window of gorgeously stained glass in the transept, which sends its 
brightness into the solemn duskiness of the church, we shall do so 
with a degree of interest increased by what we have read about 
this old and famous building. 

Another church which we shall wish to see is Sainte-Chapelle, 
or I-Ioly Chapel, built in 1245 by King Louis IX., who vv/^as known 
as St. Louis. It stands on the same island as Notre Dame, and 
near the Palace of Justice, a great pile of buildings containing the 
law courts. This church, or chapel, is small, but it is perhaps the 
most beautiful of the kind in the world. The walls of the upper 
story, in which the -royal court used to worship, are almost entirely 
of exquisitely colored glass. These walls are formed of windows 
nearly fifty feet high,, and the light shining through every side of 
this gorgeous temple of stained glass produces a remarkable and 
beautiful effect. 

The present Palace of Justice is for the most part a modern 
building, but portions of the old edifice of the same name, which 
used to stand upon this spot, still remain. In one of these we shall 
visit the old Conciergerie, which is famous as a French state prison. 
Here we shall see the little room with a brick floor, in which the 
beautiful Marie Antoinette, the wife of Louis XVI., was impris- 
oned for two months before her execution. Here is the very 
armchair in which she sat. Thus we bring to mind the events of 
the great French Revolution, and can easily recall the sorrowful 
things which took place in the halls and rooms of that gloomy 
Conciergerie. 



QUEEN PARIS. 1 53 



Another celebrated Parisian church is the Pantheon, an im- 
mense edifice. This building was intended as a burial-place for 
illustrious men of France. 

We have all heard of the famous cemetery of Pere-Lachaise. It 
lies within the city, and will be interesting to us, not only because 
of its great size and beauty, and because it contains the graves of 
so many persons famous in art, science, literature, and war, bat 
because it is so different from any graveyard to which we are 
accustomed. It has more than twenty thousand monuments, and 
many of these are like little houses, standing side by side as if 
they were dwellings on a street. Each vault generally belongs to 
a family, and the little buildings are almost always decorated with 
a profusion of flowers and wreaths, and often with pictures and 
hanging lamps. Here, as in other French cemeteries, it is not 
uncommon to place a framed photograph of a deceased person 
over his grave. 

There are small steamboats which run up and down the Seine 
like omnibuses, and the charge to passengers is about two cents 
apiece. These little boats are called by the Parisians inotiches, or 
flies ; and as they are often very convenient for city trips, we shall 
take one of them and go to the Jardin des Plantes, a very extensive 
and famous zoological and botanical garden. Here we may ramble 
for hours, and see animals from all parts of the world, in cages and 
houses, and in little yards where they can enjoy the open air. 

At the other end of the city, outside the walls, is the Jardin 
d'Acclimatation, that contains a great number of foreign animals 
and plants, many of which have been naturalized so as to feel at 
home in the climate of France. In one house here we may see all 
kinds of silk-worms, with the plants they feed upon growing near 
by. In another part of the grounds we shall find trained zebras 
and ostriches harnessed to little carriages, in which children may 



154 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

take a ride ; and we shall see some very gentle elephants and 
camels, on which we may mount and get an idea of how people 
travel in the East. 

The Bois de Boulogne, adjoining this garden, is a very large 
park, where we can see the fashionable people of Paris in their 
carriages on fine afternoons. 

There are certain aoods sold in Paris known under the name 
of " articles de Parish These consist of all sorts of pretty things, 
generally very tasteful but not very expensive, among which are 
jewelry and trinkets of many kinds, and a great variety of useful 
and ornamental little objects made in the most attractive fashion. 
These goods, of course, can be bought in other cities, but Paris 
has made a specialty of their manufacture, and many shops are 
entirely given up to their sale. A great number of such shops is 
to be found in the Palais Royal. This is a vast palace built for 
Cardinal Richelieu, in 1625, and is in the form of a hollow square, 
surrounding the garden of the Palais Royal. Around the four 
sides of the palace, under long colonnades and facing the garden, 
are rows of shops, their windows filled with all sorts ,of sparkling 
and beautiful things in gold, silver, precious stones, bronze, brass, 
and every other material that pretty things can be made of. By 
night or by day the colonnades of the Palais Royal are very attrac- 
tive places, and as all visitors go^to them, so do we. Even if we 
do not buy anything, we shall be interested in the endless display 
in the windows. 

Another place we shall wish to visit is the famous manufactory 
of Gobelin tapestry. In this factory, which belongs to the Gov- 
ernment, are produced large and beautiful woven pictures, and the 
great merit of the work is that it is done entirely by hand, no 
miachinery being used. The operation is very slow, each work- 
man putting one thread at a time in its place, and faithfully copy- 



QUEEN PARIS. 1 55 



ing a painting- in oil or water-colors, which stands near him, as a 
model. 

If in a day he covers a space as large as his hand, he considers 
that he has done a very good day's work. These tapestries, which 
are generally very large and expensive, are used as wall-hangings 
in palaces and public buildings. It will be an especial delight, I 
think, to the girls in our company, to watch this beautiful work 
slowly growing under the fingers of the skilful artisans. 

Outside of Paris, but not far away, there are some famous 
places which we must see. First among these are the palace and 
grounds of Versailles, a magnificent palace built by Louis XIV. 
for a summer residence. This gentleman, who liked to be called 
Le Grand Monarqtie, had so high an idea of the sort of country 
place he wanted, that he spent upon this palace and its grounds 
the sum of two hundred millions of dollars. The whole place is 
now open to the public, and the grand and magnificent apartments 
and halls, some of them nearly four hundred feet long, are filled 
with paintings and statuary, so that the palace is now a great art- 
gallery. The park is splendidly laid out, having in it a wide canal 
nearly a mile long. The fountains here are considered the finest 
in the world, and when they play, which is not very often, thou- 
sands upon thousands of people come out from Paris to see them. 
In the grounds are two small palaces, once inhabited by Trench 
queens ; and one of these, called the little Trianon, was the beau- 
tiful home of Marie Antoinette, whose last home on earth was 
the brick-paved room of the Conciergerie. The private garden 
attached to this little palace, which is more like a park than a 
garden, possesses much rural beauty. 

Here, on the margin of a lake, we may see the little thatched 
cottages which Marie Antoinette had built, that she and the ladies 
of her court might play at being milkmaids. These cottages stand 



156 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED, 

just as they did when those noble ladies dressed themselves up like 
peasant girls, and milked cows, which, I have no doubt, were very- 
gentle animals, while the royal milkmaids probably tried to make 
themselves believe that they could have the happiness of real milk- 
maids as well as that which belonged to their own lives of luxury 
and state. 

At Fontainebleau is another royal palace, to which is attached 
a magnificent forest of forty-two thousand acres. The kings of 
France did not like to feel cramped in their houses or grounds, 
and in this beautiful forest, which measures fifty miles around, 
there are twelve thousand four hundred miles of roads and foot- 
paths. 

Not far from Paris is the old palace of St. Germain, in which 
many kings have been born, lived, and died, and to which there is 
a forest of nine thousand acres attached. There is also St. Cloud, 
with a ruined palace and a lovely park, with statues, fountains, and 
charming walks ; and, near by, the village of Sevres, where the 
famous porcelain of that name is made. Also within easy distance 
of the city is the old cathedral of St. Denis, where, for over a thou- 
sand years, the kings of France were buried. Here, in a crypt or 
burial-place under the church, we may look through a little barred 
window into a gloomy vault, and see, standing quite near us, the 
metal coffin which contains the bones of Marie Antoinette, whose 
palaces, pleasure-grounds, prison-house, and place of execution we 
have already seen. 

The history of France shows us that Paris has been as rich in 
historical events as it is now in bright, attractive shops ; but, as 
a rule, it is much more pleasant to see the latter than to remember 
the former. In our walks through Paris, we shall not think too 
much of the dreadful riots and combats that have taken place in 
her streets, the blood that has been shed even in her churches, and 



QUEEN PARIS. 1 5/ 



the executions and murders that have been witnessed in her beau- 
tiful open squares. Instead of this, we shall give ourselves up to 
the enjoyment of the queen of cities as she now is, thinking only 
of the unrivalled pleasures she offers to visitors, and of the kind- 
ness and politeness which we almost always meet with from her 
citizens. 



IX. 



KING LONDON. 

IN the visit which we are about to make to the largest and rich- 
est civilized city in the world, I will mention at the outset that 

if any one were to undertake to walk, one way only, through all 
the streets of London, he would be obliged to o-q a distance of 
two thousand six hundred miles, or as far as it is across the Ameri- 
can continent from New York to San Francisco. This will give 
an idea of what would have to be done in order to see even the 
greater part of London. 

In our approach to this city, as well as in our rambles through 
its streets, we shall not be struck so much by its splendid and 
imposing appearance as by its immensity. Go where we may, 
there seems to be no end to the town. It is fourteen miles one 
way, and eight miles the other, and contains a population of nearly 
four million people, which is greater, than that of Switzerland 
or of the kingdoms of Denmark and Greece combined. We are 
told on good authority that there are more Scotchmen in London 
than in Edinburgh, more Irishmen than in Dublin, and more Jews 
than in Palestine, with foreigners from all parts of the world, 
including a great number of Americans. Yet there are so many 
Englishmen in London, that one is not likely to notice the presence 
of the people of other nations. 

This vast body of citizens, some so rich that they never can 
count their money, and some so poor that they never have any to 
count, eat every year four hundred thousand oxen, one and a half 



KING LONDON. 1 59 



million sheep, eight million chickens and game birds, not to speak 
of calves, hogs, and different kinds of fish. They consume five 
hundred million oysters, which, although it seems like a large 
number, would give only, if equally divided among all the people, 
one oyster every third day to each person. There are three hun- 
dred thousand servants in London, enough people to make a large 
city ; but, as this gives but one servant to each dozen citizens, 
it is quite evident that a great many of the people must wait on 
themselves. Things are very unequally divided in London ; and 
I have no doubt that instead of there being one servant to twelve 
persons, some of the rich lords and ladies have twelve servants 
apiece. 

There are many other things of this kind which I might tell 
you, and which would help to give you an idea of the vastness and 
wealth of this great centre of the world's commerce, into whose 
port twenty thousand vessels enter annually ; while land is so 
valuable that a single acre of it has been sold for four and a half 
million dollars. But we must now proceed to see London for 
ourselves ; and we shall begin at the great church of St. Paul's, 
which is in one of the most busy and crowded portions of the city. 

I must say here that a particular portion of London is known 
as " The City." Although it is comparatively but a small part of 
the metropolis, it is the centre of business, and contains the great 
mercantile houses, the Bank of England, the Exchange, the Gen- 
eral Post-Office, the courts of justice, the great newspaper offices, 
and the famous London Docks. '' The City " is presided over by 
the Lord Mayor, that personage of whom you have read so much, 
and who has nothing at all to do with the rest of London. 

In the midst of this busy, noisy, and crowded section stands 
St. Paul's, with its dome high above everything. When it was 
new and its marble was white, this church must have been very 



i6o 



PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 



handsome, viewed from the outside ; but now it is a dingy gray, 
and in some places quite black, on account of the coal-smoke 
which is continually settling down upon London and making it the 
grimiest, dingiest city in the world. It is everywhere the same. 
The splendid white marble buildings are now gray and black; the 
bricks, of which most of the houses are built, are generally the color 




ST. PAUL S CATHEDRAL, SEEN OVER THE ROOFS OF NEIGHBORING HOUSES. 

of an old ham ; and if you see a bright or fresh-looking house in 
London, you may be sure that it has very recently been painted 
or built. If you want to know the reason of this, we will go up 
to the top of the dome of St. Paul's, from which we can look down 
upon a great part of London. 

As we gaze upon the vast city stretching out far on every side, 
one of the first things which will attract our attention will be the 



KING LONDON. l6i 



amazing number of chimney-pots which stand up from the roof of 
every building, large and small. There seem to be millions of 
them, some earthenware and some iron, some of one shape and 
some of another, some twisted and some straight ; but three or 
four, and often more, on every chimney. From all these chimney- 
pots during cold or cool weather, and from a great many of them 
during the whole of the year, rise up little curls or big curls of the 
dark, heavy smoke which comes from the soft coal generally burned 
in London.. This smoke, which is often filled with little specks of 
soot, rises a short distance into the air, and then gently settles 
down to blacken and begrime the city. 

At certain seasons, when the air is heavy with moisture, this 
smoke helps to form a fog quite different from those to which 
people in other cities are accustomed. It is so thick and dark 
that the day seems like night. People cannot find their way in 
the streets ; vehicles must stand still or run into one another ; the 
street lamps shed a sickly light for only a yard or two around ; 
shutters are closed and houses are lighted at midday as if it were 
midnight; and until the fog rises, the outdoor life of London 
comes very nearly to a full stop. To see one of these fogs may 
do very well for a novelty, but we shall try not to be in London at 
the season when they generally occur, which is late autumn and 
winter. 

St. Paul's is the largest Protestant church in tne world ; and 
when we get inside of it and stand under the great dome, we shall 
be apt to think that it is a bare-looking place, and rather too big. 
It is adorned with a great many fine groups of statuary in memory 
of English soldiers and heroes, but these do not help much to 
brighten up its cold and dull interior. St. Peter's at Rome is twice 
as larore, but is a far more cheerful church. 

It seems rather odd to come to a churchyard to buy things, but 



1 62 PERSONALLF CONDUCTED. 

St. Paul's Churchyard is one of the great resorts of London shop- 
pers. It is not now really a churchyard, but is a street which runs 
entirely around the great church, and is filled with shops. Here 
we can stroll among the crowds of people on the sidewalk, and on 
one side look upon windows filled with everything that any one 
would want to buy, and on the other side gaze up at the mag- 
nificent cathedral which is the pride of London. 

It will interest us very much in going about London to meet 
with many streets and places which, although we now see them for 
the first time, seem to us like old acquaintances. From one corner 
of St. Paul's Churchyard is the lively street called Cheapside, from 
which John Gilpin started on his famous ride. 

From the front of St. Paul's runs Ludgate Hill, a street which 
is just as busy as it can be, and crowded with omnibuses, cabs, 
wagons, and people. A little farther on, this same street becomes 
Fleet Street, where we find many book-shops and printing estab- 
lishnients, which always make us think of Dr. Johnson, because he 
was so fond of this street. Near it he wrote his great dictionary, 
and lived' and died. At the end of Fleet Street used to stand 
Temple Bar, which was an archway across the street, ornamented 
with iron spikes, on which the heads of executed traitors used to 
be stuck. This celebrated gateway was one of the entrances to the 
city, and the king of England had no right to go through it unless 
he had permission of the Lord Mayor. Even now. Queen Victoria 
does not pass the monument which stands in the place of the old 
Temple Bar, without the formal consent of the Lord Mayor. 

Near this place rises the magnificent building recently erected 
for the London Law Courts. It covers a whole block, and, with 
its towers and turrets and peaked roofs, resembles a vast Norman 
castle. 

We now find ourselves in that street, well known to readers of 



KING LONDON. 163 



English books, called the Strand, where the shops, the people, and 
the omnibuses seem to Increase in number. Here we shall see 
in the windows all manner of useful things ; and, indeed, in our 
rambles through London we shall discover that, although there 
are many shop-windows filled with ornamental objects, the com- 
modities offered for sale are generally things of real use, — to wear, 
to travel with, to eat, to read, or to make of some manner of use. 
In- Paris there are many more beautiful objects, but they do not 
so much seem to be the things we really need. The Strand ends 
at Charing Cross, where we may see a model of an old-time cross 
which used to stand here. Charing Cross is one of the great 
centres of London life. It seems as if most of the citizens make 
it their business to come here at least once a day. Several lines 
of omnibuses start from this point ; here are a great railway sta- 
tion and an immense hotel ; little streets and big streets run off in 
every direction ; cabs, men, boys, women, and wagons do the same 
thing ; and it would be almost impossible to cross from one side to 
the other, were it not for a little curbed space like an island in the 
middle of the street, on which we can rest when we get half way 
over, and wait for a chance to cross the other half of the street. 
Nearly all the crowded streets of London, as well as those of Paris, 
are provided with these little central refuges for foot-passengers. 
All the vehicles going up the street pass on one side of these 
islands, while those going down pass on the other ; so that we 
only have to look in one direction for horses' heads when we are 
actually in the street. But we must remem.ber that in England 
the law obliges vehicles to keep to the left, while in France they 
turn to the right, as with us.. 

Close to Charing Cross is Trafalgar Square, a fine open space 
with a fountain, and a column to Lord Nelson, and facing this 
square we see the pillars and the portico of the National Gallery. 



1 64 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

The admirable collection of paintings in this building is not nearly 
so large as those we have seen in Paris and Italy, but it will 
greatly interest us in two ways. It will not only be refreshing to 
see pictures by English painters on English subjects, as well as 
many very fine paintings by Continental masters, but we shall be 
surprised, and very much pleased, continually to meet with the 
originals of engravings on steel and wood with which we have 
been familiar all our lives. Here are Landseer's dogs and horses, 
the children of Sir Joshua Reynolds and of Sir Thomas Lawrence, 
Wilkie's village scenes, and many other paintings which we shall 
recognize the moment our eyes fall upon them. 

Returning across Trafalgar Square, we continue our walk, and 
find that the Strand is now changed into a broad street, called 
Whitehall, in which are situated many of the governmental and 
public offices, such as the Treasury, the War Office, and so on. 
One of these buildings belongs to the Horse Guards, a very fine 
body of English cavalry, and here we shall see something interest- 
ing. On each side of a broad gateway is a little house, or shed, 
with its front entirely open to the sidewalk ; and in each of these 
houses is a soldier on horseback. This soldier is dressed in a 
splendid scarlet coat, a steel helmet with a long plume, and high- 
topped boots. The horse is coal-black, which is the regulation 
color of the Horse Guards' horses. The peculiarity of this pair of 
men and horses is that, while they are stationed here on guard, 
they never move. The man sits as if he were carved in stone, and 
although I have no doubt he winks, he does it so that nobody 
notices it ; while the horse is almost as motionless as one of the 
bronze horses of St. Mark's in Venice. He neither switches his 
tail, nods his head, nor stamps his feet. He has been trained to 
do nothing but think while he stands in this little house, and that 
is all he does. Nearly all visitors to London come to see these 




WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 



KING LONDON. 167 



two statue-like men and horses at the entrance to the Horse 
Guards. At certain hours these soldiers are relieved and their 
places supplied by others, and there is generally a little crowd 
assembled to witness this manoeuvre. A tall sergeant comes out 
into the street, turns around, and faces the two horsemen. At his 
word of command, each soldier rides out of his little house, then 
they turn around squarely and ride toward each other, then they 
turn again, and side by side ride through the gate into the court- 
yard. It now appears as if they have works inside of them and 
are moved by machinery, so exactly do they keep time with each 
other in every motion. At the word of command they stop, each 
man lifts up his right leg, throws it over the back of his horse, and 
drops it to the ground so that the two boots tap the pavement at 
the same instant. Then each left foot is drawn from the stirrup, 
and each man stands up and leads away his horse, while two other 
guardsmen come out to take their places in the little houses, and 
sit motionless for a stated time. 

Continuing on our course, we find that Whitehall is changed to 
Parliament Street and leads us to Westminster Abbey and the 
splendid Houses of Parliament, on the river-bank. We all have 
heard so much of Westminster Abbey, that grand old burial-place 
of Englishmen of fame, that it will scarcely strike us as entirely 
novel ; but I doubt if any of us have formed an idea of the lofty 
beauty of its pillars and arched ceiling, and the extent and number 
of its recesses and chapels crowded with monuments an.d relics of 
the past. 

Of course, we shall go first to the Poets' Corner, where so many 
literary men lie buried, and where there are so many monuments 
to those who are buried elsewhere. Among these we shall be 
glad to see the bust of our own Longfellow, the only person not 
an Englishman who has a monument here. We shall spend hours 



l68 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

in Westminster Abbey and in its chapels, where there are so many 
interesting memorials and tombs of old-time kings and queens, 
knights and crusaders ; and then, having made up our minds that 
on the very next Sunday we will come here to church, we shall go 
out of a side door into a queer little street, where, in a secluded 
corner, are some quaint little houses with such names as " Mr. John 
This," and "Mr. Thomas That," and "Mr. George The-other-thing" 
on their front gates ; and, after walking a short distance, we shall 
find ourselves at the entrance to the Houses of Parliament. 

It is only on Saturdays that these great buildings can be visited, 
and then we must have permits from the Lord Chamberlain, whose 
office is around a corner of the edifice. We can wander as we 
please through all the public parts of the building, for Parliament 
is never in session on Saturdays, and we shall see splendid and 
handsome halls and corridors, including the Queen's rbbing-room, 
with her throne on one side of it, althougfh she seldom or never 
sits there, and the magnificent House of Lords, with three thrones 
at one end of it, which were originally intended for the Queen, her 
husband Prince Albert, and her oldest son the Prince of Wales. 
There are many more halls and apartments, all magnificently 
fitted up and adorned with rich carvings and paintings, making 
this a wonderfully grand and imposing building. We shall be 
surprised, however, when we see the room intended for the House 
of Commons, the real governing power of England. In these 
immense Houses of Parliament, coverinof eig^ht acres, and contain- 
ing eleven hundred rooms and apartments, there is for the House 
of Commons only a room so small, that, when all the members are 
present, there is not accommodation for them on the main floor, 
and many of them have to stow themselves away in the gallery 
or wherever they can find room. Adjoining this magnificent 
building, and now really a part of it, is the famous old West- 



KING LONDON. 



169 



minster Hall, a vast chamber capable of holding a dozen Houses 
of Commons. This great hall was built in its present form by 
Richard H. Here the English Parliament used to meet, and here 




\MV,iv 



THE HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT. 



state trials were held. Among the persons condemned to death 
in this room were Charles I., William Wallace the Scotch hero, 
and Guy Fawkes. The lofty roof, formed of dark oaken beams, 
is very peculiar, and in construction is one of the finest roofs of 
its kind in the world. 



I 70 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

When we leave here, we shall go out on one of the bridges 
across the Thames, and get a view of the river-front of the Houses 
of Parliament, with the great Victoria Tower at one end, and at 
the other the Clock Tower, with four clock-faces, each of which is 
twenty-three feet in diameter; so that people do not have to go 
very close to see what time it is. The large bell in this tower 
weighs thirteen tons, and it requires five hours to wind up the 
striking part of the clock. 

We are now in the western part of London, which is the fash- 
ionable quarter, where the lords and ladies and the rich and grand 
people live, and where the shops are finer, the people better dressed, 
and where there are more private carriages than business wagons. 
Among the fine streets here are Pall Mall (pronounced /^^//J/^//), 
where we see on either side of the street large and handsome build- 
ings belonging to the London clubs ; and Piccadilly, full of grand 
shops, leading to the famous Hyde Park. London gentlemen con- 
sider a walk down Piccadilly one of the pleasantest things they can 
do, and there are people who think that there is not in the world a 
street so attractive as this. It is certainly a pleasant promenade ; 
and for a great part of its length we have on one side the beautiful 
trees and grass of Green Park, at the farther side of which stands 
Buckingham Palace, the Queen's London residence. 

Hyde Park, with the adjoining Kensington Gardens, is a very 
large enclosure, with drives, grassy lawns, and fine trees, and with a 
pretty river running through it. Near Hyde Park corner, where 
we enter, are some magnificent residences, among which is Apsley 
House, belonging to the Duke of Wellington. One of the roads 
in Hyde Park is called Rotten Row, and is devoted entirely to 
horseback riding. There is nothing decayed about this Row, and 
it is said that the place used to be called Route de Roi, the Road 
of the King, and it has generally been corrupted into Rotten Row. 



KING LONDON. 171 



There are many proper names which the English people pro- 
nounce very differently from the way in which they are spelled : St. 
John, for instance, is pronounced Singe-on ; Beauchamp is Beecham; 
and when they wish to mention the name Cholmondeley, they say 
Chumley, while Sevenoaks has become Snooks. 

From twelve to two o'clock we may see Rotten Row filled with 
lady and gentleman riders, trotting or galloping up and down. But 
the finest sight of Hyde Park begins about five o'clock in the after- 
noon, when the carriages of the nobility and gentry fill the long 
drive on the south side of the park. There is no place in the 
world where we can see so many fine horses and carriages, so much 
fashion, so much wealth, and so much aristocracy, in a compara- 
tively small space, as in Hyde Park, between five and seven o'clock 
in the afternoon, during what is called the " London season." The 
carriages, which are generally open, with spirited horses, and liv- 
eried coachmen, some of whom wear powdered wigs, drive up one 
side of the roadway and down the other, keeping as close to one 
another as they can get, and forming a great moving mass, which it 
is very pleasant to gaze upon. Along the sidewalks are long rows 
of chairs which can be hired, those with arms for four cents, and 
those without arms for two ; and on these it is the delight of the 
London people to sit and watch the show of handsome equipages, 
beautiful dresses, and high-born faces. No cabs or public vehicles 
are allowed on this drive, which is entirely devoted to private 
•carriages. 

When we go out of Hyde Park at its northeast corner, we 
enter Oxford Street, a wide and busy thoroughfare, crowded with 
every kind of vehicle and all sorts of foot-passengers. Crossing 
this is Regent Street, the most fashionable shopping-street in Lon- 
don, where we find the finest stores, and the handsomest displays 
in the windows. This street is very wide, and the houses on each 



172 ' PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

side are nearly all of the same color, a pale yellow, and are prob- 
ably painted every year to keep them fresh. 

We are now going back toward the city, and, continuing 
through the lively scenes of Oxford Street, we perceive that after 
a time this great thoroughfare changes into High Holborn ; and we 
may remember what Thomas Hood had to say about a lost child in 
this street, when he wrote : 

" One day, as I was going by 
That part of Holborn christened High, 
I heard a loud and sudden cry 
That chilled my very blood." 

( Then the street becomes Holborn Viaduct, where, for about a 
quarter of a mile, it is built up high across a deep depression in the 
city, making a level line of street where there used to be two steep 
hills. At one point there is a bridge where we can look over the 
railing and see portions of the city spread out below us. At one 
end of this viaduct is the old Church of St. Sepulchre, where lies 
buried Captain John Smith, who, we will remember, would prob- 
ably have been buried in Virginia, had it not been for the kindly 
intervention of Pocahontas. And at the other end is the famous 
prison of Newgate. Daniel Defoe — author of "Robinson Crusoe" 
— Jack Sheppard, and William Penn were imprisoned in Newgate; 
but the building has been a great deal altered since their times. 
The street here is called Newgate Street, and before very long it 
merges into Cheapside, and we find ourselves at the point from 
which we started. Not far from Newgate is a much more cheerful 
place, of which most of us have heard or read. This is Christ's 
Hospital, the home of the Blue Coat Boys, who, with their long 
coats, knee-breeches, and yellow stockings, and never wearing any 
hats, winter or summer, are frequently to be met with in the 
picture-galleries and other public places in London. It is now 



KING LONDON. 173 



the intention of the managers of this school to move it into the 
country. 

In the very heart of the city, where we now are, stands the 
great Bank of England. This building, with one of its sides on 
Threadneedle Street, covers about four acres, but is only one story 
high. It has no windows on the outside, through which thieves 
might get in from the street, and light and air are supplied by 
windows opening on inside courts. This is one of the richest 
banks In the world ; its vaults often contain as much as a hundred 
million dollars in gold, and every night a small detachment of sol- 
diers from some regiment stationed in the city is quartered here to 
protect its treasures. Each of the men receives a small sum from 
the bank, and the officer in command is provided with a dinner for 
himself and any two friends he may choose to invite. But at a 
certain hour the head watchman of the bank comes around with 
the great keys, to lock up the outer door with ceremonies that 
have been observed for generations, and the two friends must 
leave, whether they are ready to go or not. 

Opposite the Bank is the Mansion House, the stately edifice in 
which the Lord Mayor lives. Near by is the Royal Exchange, 
with a grand portico, and a tall tower, on the top of which is a great 
golden grasshopper, which some people may think is intended to 
mean that the money made by the hundreds and thousands of busi- 
ness-men who crowd here during certain hours will skip away from 
them if they are not careful : in reality, it is the crest of the original 
builder of the Exchangre. In this neigfhborhood also Is the Gen- 
eral Post-Office and the great Telegraph Building. 

A good deal farther eastward than these, and on the bank of 
the River Thames, which runs through London as the Seine does 
througfh Paris, stands the ancient and far-famed Tower of London. 
This Is not by any means a single tower, but Is a collection of 



1 74 • PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

strongly fortified buildings surrounded by a high and massive wall, 
and is a veritable castle, or fortress, of the olden time, standing 
here in the crowded and busy London of to-day. We shall wander 
for a long time through this gloomy old fortress and prison, now 
used as an arsenal and barracks for soldiers. Most of the ancient 
buildings, towers, and walls are still just as they used to be. Here 
we shall see the Bloody Tower, in which the two princes were mur- 
dered by Richard III. ; the great central White Tower, built by 
William the Conqueror, and now containing a museum of old-time 
armor and weapons, where we may also see many wooden .figures 
of mounted men clad in the very armor worn long ago by knights 
and kings. In another tower, the Beauchamp Tower, we shall 
enter the prison-chamber in which many of the great people of 
England were confined, and we can read the inscriptions written 
by them on the walls. In the corner of the enclosure is a little 
chapel, which differs from every other church, in containing the 
graves of so many famous beheaded people. Among these are 
Queen Anne Boleyn ; Lady Jane Grey and her husband; Queen 
Elizabeth's friend, the Earl of Essex ; and others with whose names 
we are very familiar in English history. If there had been no way 
of cutting off people's heads, or of otherwise putting an end to 
them, a great deal of the history of the world would never have 
been written. In another tower, where it is said Henry VI. was 
murdered, we shall see the crown jewels, or regalia, of England, 
which are here for safe-keeping. They are in a great glass case 
surrounded by a strong iron-barred cage, through which a thief, 
even if he could get over the Tower walls and through its guards, 
would find it hard to break. In this case we see golden crowns, 
sceptres, swords, and crosses, covered with magnificent jewels of 
every kind, besides many other dazzling and costly objects. On 
Queen Victoria's state crown are no less than two thousand seven 



KING LONDON. 175 



hundred and eighty-three diamonds ; and in front is the great ruby, 
said to have belonged to the Black Prince, which Henry V., who 
liked to make a gorgeous appearance on great occasions, wore on 
his helmet at the battle of Agincourt. 

Standing about in various places in the Tower grounds we shall 
meet with some of the warders, called " beef-eaters," which is an 
English corruption of the French biiffetiers, or royal waiters. 
These men are dressed in mediaeval costume, and carry tall 
halberds, or spears. In olden times, one of these was the heads- 
man and bore a great axe. 

Not far from the Tower are the great London Docks, which 
are not upon the river, but are inland water enclosures of more 
than a hundred acres in extent, surrounded by great warehouses. 
In these docks three hundred large vessels can lie ; and in the 
warehouses, and in the immense vaults beneath them, are stored 
such vast quantities of goods — tea, silk, tobacco, coffee, sugar, wine, 
and everything that can be brought from foreign lands — that there 
seems to be no end or limit to them. A visit to these docks, as 
well as to the West India Docks, which are still larger, and to 
several others in this quarter of London, will help to give us an idea 
of the enormous commerce and wealth of the great metropolis. 

Among the sights of London is the British Museum, which is 
one of the most extensive and valuable libraries and museums in 
the world. There are more than a million books here, as well as 
collections of Grecian, Assyrian, and Egyptian marbles, statuary, 
and inscriptions ; with curiosities, antique and modern ; and scien- 
tific and other interesting objects, in number like the leaves upon a 
tree. If any of my companions wish to examine every object there 
is in the British Museum, they must give up the rest of London. 

Another collection, almost as large, and more interesting to 
many persons, is the South Kensington Museum, 



176 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

This museum is mostly devoted to objects of art, and contains 
both ancient and modern specimens of architecture, paintings, 
statues, beautiful pottery of every kind, and enough things worth 
looking at and studying to tire out the legs and brains of any 
human being who should try to see them all at one time. 

In Regent's Park, a large enclosure to the north of Hyde Park, 
are the Zoological Gardens, which are in many respects more 
interesting than those of Paris, and are very admirably arranged 
for the convenience both of the visitors and of the animals. Here 
the animals have more room to move about than is usual in 
menageries. There are elephants and camels which carry ladies 
and children up and down the grounds ; and we shall see some fine 
Bengal tigers, belonging to the Prince of Wales, in a great open- 
air enclosure so large that they almost seem to be at liberty, and 
they walk about and bound over trunks of trees as if they were in 
their Indian homes. At feeding-time, which is in the afternoon, 
this whole place is in a state of rampage, the animals requiring no 
dinner-bell to let them know what time it is. 

Another interesting place, where the creatures require no food 
and are not at all dangerous, is Madame Tussaud's wax-work 
show. Here we shall see life-size figures of famous men and 
women from all parts of the world — Richard the Lion-hearted, 
President Lincoln, Queen Elizabeth, Cetewayo, Gladstone, Gui- 
teau, and many other well-known people. Whenever a person 
does anything which makes him famous, a wax portrait-figure of 
him, dressed in the same kind of clothes he wears, is set up in 
this gallery, among the crowd of kings, queens, warriors, states- 
men, and criminals already here. Here is a figure of Cobbett, the 
English politician, sitting upon one of the long benches placed 
for the accommodation of visitors. By means of machinery inside 
of him, his head every now and then moves quickly to one side, as 



KING LONDON. 177 



if he were looking around to see who is there. He is a large man, 
of benevolent appearance, wearing a broad-brimmed hat like a 
Quaker's, and it is considered a very good joke when some visitor, 
thinking him a real man, sits down by him, and is startled at the 
sudden turn of his head. This is a great London resort, for nearly 
everybody wants to know how eminent people look, and what kind 
of clothes they wear. 

We must also visit the great London markets, one of which, 
called Covent Garden, is devoted to vegetables, fruit, and flowers ; 
and these are brought in such vast numbers, and there are such lively 
scenes among the crowds of purchasers, that many strangers, who 
have no idea of buying, come here in the early mornings simply to 
witness the spectacle. There is also Smithfield Market, a building 
covering three and a half acres, with a garden and fountain in the 
centre, where we see exposed for sale the meat of oxen, calves, 
hogs, and sheep. In the Billingsgate Market we see fish in such 
quantities that we can scarcely imagine how a city which eats so 
much fish can possibly want any meat. Leadenhall Market is 
given up entirely to poultry and game ; while another of the many 
London markets is devoted in great part to the sale of water- 
cresses. Near Smithfield Market is the old market-place where 
many famous persons were burned at the stake. 

While we are in this part of the town, we must stop for a time 
at the Guildhall, the ancient Town Hall of London, where there 
is a museum of curious things connected with old London, and 
where we may still see the queer wooden giants, Gog and Magog. 

Leaving the noisy city, and the crowded business portions of 
London, it is a great relief to take a hansom cab, open in front, 
with a driver sitting out of our sight "behind, and to roll swiftly 
over the smooth streets of the West End, as it is called, where the 
rich and fashionable people live. Here we find a great many 



178 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

"squares," which are Httle enclosed parks with streets and dwelling- 
houses all around them ; and farther to the west we come to 
long streets and avenues, where the houses have front gardens, 
and often back gardens, and where everything is as quiet, and 
almost as rural, as in a country village. Here, if we do not know 
London, we may think that we are in the suburbs, and that we 
need not go far to get into the country ; but if we turn up' a side 
street, and go a block or two, we shall come upon a long, noisy 
business street, crowded with people, vehicles, and shops, and find 
ourselves in another of the great business quarters of London. 
To get out of London and London life is not easy, and after 
strolling for hours we still see London stretching out before us, as 
if it would say, " Here I am, and if you want to see the end of me, 
you must walk a long, long way yet." 

There are many places outside of London to which we must 
certainly go, and one of these is the Crystal Palace. In this great 
glass building we may see miles of interesting things connected 
with architecture, art, and nature. Theatrical performances also 
are given here, and concerts, and sometimes grand shows of 
fireworks. 

Then there is Hampton Court, an old palace built by Cardinal 
Wolsey, with very beautiful grounds and garden, laid out in the 
old-fashioned style. There we may wander in the walks and under 
the trees where "bluff King Hal," and later Charles L, wandered 
with their courtiers. 

At Windsor Castle, the residence of Queen Victoria, we shall 
spend a day ; and, although the Queen may not be likely to ask us 
in, we shall see a great deal of the interior of the magnificent 
building in which the sovereigns of England, from as far back as 
Edward HL, have lived. 

Then we must go to Richmond, a charming village on the 



KING LONDON. 



179 



Thames, where all London people go, and where there is a beauti- 
ful park and view. 

We may also visit Greenwich, at longitude nothing, and go to 
the celebrated Kew Gardens, full of rare and beautiful trees and 
plants and flowers. 




THE VICTORIA EMBANKMENT, LONDON. 



The Victoria Embankment is a magnificent roadway extending 
along the banks of the Thames, from Blackfriars Bridge to West- 
minster Bridge, more than a mile. It is built over a low shore 
which used to be covered by water twice every day at high tide. 
This great work consists of a wide roadway with handsome walks 
on either side, and is shaded by trees and embellished with statues. 



l8o PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

In some places there are gardens on it, and here stands a hand- 
some obelisk which was brought from Egypt. The embankment 
cost ten millions of dollars, and under it are tunnels, through one 
of which runs one of the underground railways of London. 

On the other side of the river is another roadway of the same 
kind, not so long, called the Albert Embankment. The first of 
these is often called the Thames Embankment. 

And now, my good readers, do you suppose that we have seen 
all London? You may have an idea of it, but I could take you 
about for a week or two more and show you interesting places and 
things which we have not yet seen. But we have done as much 
as we can at present ; and strapping our valises, and locking our 
trunks, we shall bid good-by to great King London. 



X. 



IN ENGLISH COUNTRY. 



DURING our stay in England we shall discover, if we pay 
attention to what people say and do, that Great Britain is 
divided into two grand divisions : one is London, and the 
other is the rest of the kingdom. When any one in England says 
he is going to town, we may know that he is going to London. 
If he intended to visit any other of the great English cities, he 
would mention Manchester, Liverpool, Birmingham, or whatever 
its name might be. Town life means London life, and the other 
cities, no matter how large and important they are, are considered 
provincial, and a little countrified. 

An American boy or girl, who knows something of country life 
in a land which stretches from the Atlantic to the Pacific and 
covers a great part of a continent, will be apt to think that Eng- 
land, about as large as the State of Illinois, and with a population 
of over thirty millions, must be so full of people that no part of it 
could have that quiet and secluded character which belongs to real 
country life. But this is a mistake. A great portion of the popu- 
lation of England is so packed and crowded into its cities, towns, 
and villages, that there are wide extents of country which are as 
rural and pastoral as any lover of country life need desire to see, 
unless, indeed, he be fond only of the primeval forest or the 
trackless prairie. In this little country we may even find extensive 
forests, and far-reaching districts like the great moors of Devon- 



1 82 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

shire, which in parts are almost as desolate and uninhabited as a 
wild prairie. 

But the great population of England has had a peculiar influ- 
ence upon the appearance of the country. Where there are so 
many people to work, a vast deal of work has been done. The 
land is well and even beautifully cultivated ; the roads are almost 
as smooth and hard as a driveway in a park ; and there is a general 
appearance of order and high culture which could not be expected 
in a country like ours, where there is so much to do, and, com- 
paratively, so few to do it. 

England owes one of its greatest beauties to its climate. We 
need not wonder that its fields and hillsides are so richly green, and 
that its trees and hedge-rows are so verdant and luxuriant, when we 
consider that the whole country is well watered nearly every day. 
Rainy, or at least showery, weather is so common in England that 
most things which flourish when well supplied with water are bound 
to flourish there. It is not pleasant to be caught in a shower when 
one least expects it, or to go out in the rain because it will be of 
no use to wait until the rain is over ; but, on the other hand, it is 
delightful to look upon the charming country which springs up 
under a watering-pot sky. But there are often clear, sunny days 
in England, and while we are in that country we must imitate the 
English people, and when it does rain we must not mind it. The 
idea of good weather is very different there from what it is with us. 
A gentle rain is not regarded, and I have heard two men, standing 
under umbrellas in a drizzling sprinkle, remark to each other that 
it was a fine day. 

I wish my young companions to see for themselves what real 
rural life and rural scenery is in England, and so I shall take them 
with me to a place which is as truly "out in the country" as any 
spot we are likely to visit on this island. It is not a wild moorland 



IN ENGLISH COUNTRY. 



183 



nor a thinly populated mountainous district, but a place where we 
can see the ordinary country life as we read about it in English 
books and stories. 

We begin our journey by going to Paddington station, London, 
where we take tickets for Prince's Risborough, a little town on the 








AN ENGLISH MEADOW. 

Great Western Railway. For a time we roll swiftly along on 
the main line of the Great Western, but soon branch off on a 
single-track road, on which we go as slowly, and stop as often, 
as on some of our own railroads. In about two hours we reach 
Prince's Risborough, a small town in Buckinghamshire. This 
county is generally called Bucks for short. 



I 84 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

Our destination, however, is Monk's Risborough, which is a 
Httle village a few miles farther in the country. At the station 
we take " flies" — not blue-bottle ones, but one-horse carriages, each 
holding four persons ; and our baggage, which in England is called 
"luggage," is carried in a "van," or spring-wagon. We drive 
away over a smooth hard road, and although it is raining steadily, 
and we are obliged to keep the carriage windows shut, we see that 
we are passing through a very pretty country, which will be a great 
deal prettier when the sun shines. At Monk's Risborough, which 
is a very little village, we do not stop, but go still farther on to a 
very pleasant country house, where we have arranged to stay for 
a week or so. 

There we shall find what English people are at home, and I am 
sure we shall like them very much. The lady of the house greets 
us very cordially, and immediately wishes to know if we will have 
some tea, which is presently served to us, accompanied by thin 
slices of bread and butter. The English are very fond of tea, and 
at whatever hour of the afternoon we visit them, we are very sure 
of getting some. Here we shall be pleasantly lodged, and every 
day we shall have four good meals : breakfast about nine o'clock, 
— not the simple meal of bread and coffee to which we were accus- 
tomed on the Continent, but plenty of ham or bacon, eggs, marma- 
lade, water-cress or some such green thing, tea and coffee, toast 
and bread and butter, but no hot fresh bread. At two o'clock we 
have dinner, very much like a good country dinner at home ; and if 
any of us are fond of gooseberry or apple tarts, we shall probably 
think that we never tasted any better than those we have here. In 
England a " pie " means pastry with meat, such as a veal, a pork, 
or a chicken pie, while pastries with fruit are called tarts. At five 
o'clock the tea-bell rings, when we sit around a table well supplied 
with bread and butter, several kinds of cake, and preserves, while 



IN- ENGLISH COUNTRY. 185 

the lady of the house sits behind a teapot and a hot-water pot, 
each covered with a great embroidered " cosey," Hke a giant's night- 
cap, and these are kept on when the tea is not being poured out, 
so that it has no chance to Q-^t cool. Between eio^ht and nine we 
have supper, which is a substantial meal, consisting of cold meat, 
with lettuce or some other salad, bread and butter, and cheese, and 
for those who like malt liquors, plenty of brown stout and ale, but 
no tea or coffee. We might imagine that such a meal at this 
hour would interfere with our night's sleep, but in this country 
it does not seem to do so. It is asserted that there is some- 
thing in the climate of England which enables people to eat 
and drink more without injury than they, can in our drier and 
thinner air. Among people in high life, in country as well as town, 
it is customary to have very late dinners, but we are concerned 
with the ordinary rural life of what is called the English middle 
class. 

The next morning we start out to see the country, and the first 
place we go to is Monk's Risborough. This little village, or hamlet, 
was once part of the property of the monks of Canterbury, and so 
came by its name. It is one of the quaintest and most old-fash- 
ioned villages in England. Most of the houses are cottages inhab- 
ited by poor people. The roofs are thatched, and the windows, 
which are very small, and open on hinges like doors, have little 
panes, about six inches high, set in leaden strips. Many of these 
cottages have vines running over their sides and projecting gable- 
ends, and pretty little gardens. On the outskirts of the village 
there are a few large and pleasant-looking houses belonging to the 
"gentle-folk." One of these is the rectory ; and not far away is 
the church, a very old one, which gives us an idea of what village 
churches were a few centuries ago. 

On the pews there are some very curious old carvings, and on 



1 86 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

a large screen there are twelve panels, nine of which are now occu- 
pied by pictures ; each of these represents a man clad in furs and 
velvet, and although they were painted so long ago that nobody 
knows exactly whom they were intended to represent, there can be 
but little doubt that they were meant for the twelve apostles, all 
the panels originally having been filled. 

Near the village schoolhouse stands the dwelling of the school- 
master, which is so very pretty, so very small, and so very neat, and 
has so prim and tidy a little flower-garden in front of it, that if 
baby houses for grown people came packed in boxes, we might 
imagine that this had been freshly taken out of one. As we look 
upon this little village — and it will take us but a short time to see 
the whole of it — the first impression that it will make upon most 
of us will be, that although all this is, in reality, new to us, we have 
been very familiar with it in books and pictures. 

As we walk along the broad highway which leads from the 
village, we meet a man who may perhaps surprise us. This is a 
letter-carrier, with his bag, briskly walking away into the open 
country. The nearest post-office is at Prince's Risborough, some 
miles away; but here he is, delivering letters at the farmhouses 
and country seats in the neighborhood, and when he goes back he 
will collect them from the little box set up against a garden wall 
in the village. This is very different from what we see in our 
country, where it is only in cities that letters are delivered, and in 
some large towns persons who want their letters must go to the 
post-office for them. But in England letters are delivered every- 
where, and even in the quietest country place people can have the 
pleasure of hearing the postman's knock at the door. Some of 
these carriers must take very long walks, but English people do 
not appear to object to that sort of thing. Two young girls, the 
daughters of our hostess, will, at any time, step over to Prince's 



IN ENGLISH COUNTRY. 187 

Risborough and back, a distance of more than five miles, and think 
nothing of it. 

But we shall want to see so much In this beautiful county of 
Bucks, that we shall not be content with walking ; and the next 
morning we will set out for a good long drive, some of us in a 
"fly," and some in little pony carriages, which last we can hire for 
about three shillings a day, if we drive ourselves and give the horse 
some beans for a midday meal. The day is clear and bright, and 
we see that even in this well-sprinkled isle it is possible to have 
blue sky and sunny air. The country we pass through is gently 
rolling, with here and there hills of considerable height. Many of 
the fields are covered with rich, luxuriant grass, and those which 
are cultivated look very small compared with American grain and 
corn fields ; but these little plats are so carefully tilled that the 
product from one of them is often quite as great as that from one 
of our very much larger fields. But, on the other hand, we see 
good-sized fields planted with vegetables which with us are gener- 
ally grown in gardens, such as beans, which are largely used for 
horse and cattle feed. Speaking of corn, we find that in England 
this name is given to wheat, rye, barley, and other kinds of grain. 
In America the maize which our forefathers found was called 
Indian corn to distinguish it from the other Pfrains ; and when its 
cultivation became very general, we called it simply corn, and 
ceased to apply that name to any other kind of grain. We do not 
see this crop in England, although it has been introduced into 
some parts of the Continent. 

Many of the roads we drive over are just wide enough for two 
vehicles to pass each other, and are almost always bordered on each 
side by luxuriant hedges, often ten or twelve feet high. These 
are composed largely of hawthorn bushes ; and as it is now the 
early part of June, these bushes are covered with lovely white and 



1 88 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

sometimes light pink blossoms. Driving between these long lines 
of dainty-flowering and sweet-smelling rows of hedges is very- 
delightful. It is true that the tall hedges cut off some of our 
view ; but the hawthorn bushes, with here and there a pretty clump 
of green trees, are enough to look at for a time. After a while we 
come out upon the brow of a hill and on a wider road where the 
hedges have been clipped ; and here, stretching around us, are 
miles and miles of lovely English scenery. What we principally 
see are green fields divided by hedge-rows, and masses of trees and 
shrubbery all richly green, and of luxuriant growth. We seldom 
see rows of fences, or wide, unshaded stretches of pasture-land. 
The country is so pretty and so picturesque that one might think 
it had been laid out and planted like a landscape garden or a park 
simply to make it look beautiful ; but, of course, this is not the 
case, for the farmers of England, like most other farmers, prefer 
the useful to the ornamental. But centuries of careful cultivation 
and rain, added to a considerable degree of good taste on the part 
of the great proprietors, have made England the lovely country 
that it is. 

On the side of a high, long hill lies a very pretty little village 
called Whiteleaf, and above it, flat against the green slope of the 
hill, we see an immense white cross. It is so large that it is visible 
at a distance of many miles. It looks as if it were about a quarter 
of a mile long, and it is formed by cutting away the green turf 
and exposing the white chalk, which, in this part of the country, 
lies directly underneath the top soil. This work was done by an 
antiquarian society, to commemorate a great battle fought here 
between the Danes and Saxons. The society owns the land, and 
has appropriated funds to keep the cross always white, and clean 
from grass and weeds. 

Among the things which will appear novel to us will be the 



IN ENGLISH COUNTRY, 



189 



great number of little public-houses, or inns, which we shall see 
scattered about the country, generally at the junction of two roads. 
These have signs with their names, such as " The Three Crowns," 




A VTLLAGE INN. 



"The White Hart," "The Swan," "The Plough and Harrow," 
for instance, and a picture of these objects painted thereon. Eng- 
lish people drink a great deal of beer and ale, and no matter how 
secluded and quiet the spot may be where we find one of these 



igo PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

inns, we shall generally see a wagon or a two-wheeled spring-cart 
standing outside, while the owner is refreshing himself within. 

Another thing which makes country driving here different from 
what it is at home, and not only different, but very much more 
safe and pleasant, is the fact that wherever a road crosses a railroad 
track, it either goes over it by a bridge or under it by a tunnel. 
There is no driving across the rails ; and the tall sign, with " Look 
out for the locomotive " upon it, is unnecessary here. 

We are not going anywhere in particular this morning, and 
merely drive wherever our fancy leads us. We pass cottages with 
thatch on them sometimes a foot thick ; large farmhouses, and now 
and then a private residence, generally standing back, and well 
shaded by trees ; and we drive through tw^o villages, not far from 
each other, called Great Kimball and Little Kimball. In the 
former is a handsome old church, built of small stones very oddly 
arranged, which is interesting to us, not only on account of its 
appearance, but because in the churchyard around it began the 
great English revolution of the seventeenth century. Here Crom- 
well, Ireton, and Hampden met and arranged their plans and 
projects. 

Not far away is Hampden Park, a large estate which once 
belonged to John Hampden, but is now the property of the Earl 
of Buckinghamshire. There is a road through this park which is 
free to the public, and you may be sure we shall drive through it. 
The park is very extensive, and we are immediately struck by the 
magnificent appearance of the trees. Some of the great beeches 
are as round and symmetrical as if they had been trimmed, and the 
foliage everywhere is very thick and heavy. Although the park, 
in portions, is so thickly wooded that it seems like a little forest, 
the trees are well cared for, and each one is allowed to have plenty 
of room to expand itself in a natural and symmetrical way. At a 



IN ENGLISH COUNTRY. 191 

distance we catch a view of the house, and not far away from it 
we see a curious-looking tree called a copper-beech, the leaves of 
which are of the color of a bright English penny. These trees are 
comparatively rare, and but a few of them are to be found in this 
county. In an open sunny space we notice, not far from the road, 
standing among the thick grass, two handsome birds as large as 
our ordinary poultry. They are pheasants, and do not appear to 
be in the least disturbed at seeing us. They probably know that 
no one will be allowed to harm them except in the game season, 
which will not arrive for several months. The laws regarding 
game are very strict in England, and even in the shooting season 
no one who does not " preserve " game, as the rearing and care of it 
is here called, is allowed to kill a rabbit, a partridge, or a pheasant, 
even on his own property. All such game is considered to belong 
to those persons in the neighborhood who have "preserves." If 
a rabbit should come into the garden of the house where we are 
staying, and be found eating the cabbages, it may be driven away ; 
but if the owner of the garden should catch or kill it, he would be 
subject to a penalty. 

It must not be supposed that the great proprietors are always 
stingy about their game. On one of the estates of the Prince of 
Wales each poor man is allowed to come to the house every day 
in the shooting season, and get one rabbit. He is perfectly wel- 
come to the animal when it is dead, for the prince and his friends 
could not possibly eat all they shoot ; but if he should presume 
to deprive the owner of the pleasure of killing it, he would be a 
poacher and be put in prison. 

As we drive on we see, to the left, a beautiful open glade, 
the sides of which are perfectly parallel, running for about a mile 
throuoj'h the thick woods. When Oueen Elizabeth once made a 
visit here, and was about to return to London, this opening was 



192 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

cut through the park as a road by which her Majesty might reach 
the highway in the most direct manner, and so have a shorter 
journey to London. This royal road was only used on this occa- 
sion, and the wide avenue is now covered with rich grass and is 
called Queen Elizabeth's Glade. 

After driving a mile or two among the grand old trees of the 
park, we come out upon a public road and soon reach Hampden 
Common, which is a wide, open space, covered with short grass 
and, in places, with heavy growths of gorse, which is a short, 
prickly bush just beginning to show large masses of yellow flowers. 
On the edge of the open space we see some cottages, and, although 
all the land here is the property of the earl, the poor people living 
in these have a right, which has been possessed for generations, 
to the use of this common for grazing and other purposes. Wan- 
dering about on the short grass, we may see a great many flocks 
of ducks, most of them young, downy, and as yellow as canary 
birds. The raising of ducks is a great industry among the poor 
people in this part of the country, which is not far from Aylesbury, 
the home of a very famous breed of ducks. A number of beau- 
tiful sheep, with black heads and legs, are grazing not far from 
us ; and as this is one of the English commons about which we 
have so often read, we naturally look for a gypsy encampment. 
This we do not see, although it is quite probable that if we were to 
come some other day we might find one. 

We return home by the way of Prince's Risborough, which is 
quite a little town, consisting mainly of a long street of old-fash- 
ioned ^wo-story houses with queer gables and brass knockers, a 
funny little market-house in an open space to one side, and rather 
more houses of entertainment for man and beast than there seem 
to be men and beasts to entertain. 

On another day we shall take a drive of about eight miles to 



IN ENGLISH COUNTRY. 193 

Hughenden, which was the residence of the late Benjamin DisraeH, 
afterward Lord Beaconsfield. Our way takes us through a variety 
of pretty shaded lanes, with now and then an open road ; and 
sometimes we pass a perfectly green lane, entirely covered with 
short, thick turf, along which it must be very pleasant to wander 
on foot. When we reach Hughenden Park we first visit the 
church, at the back of which is the tomb of the famous novelist 
and statesman. On the wall of the church is a tall tablet contain- 
ing a long inscription in praise of the great man's wife, but not a 
word to indicate that he himself was anybody in particular. 

^ Other parts of the churchyard are occupied by old, old graves 
and tombstones, and in it stands a picturesque thatched cottage, 
in which the sexton lives. Farther on is the rectory, a remarkably 
pretty house, surrounded by fine grounds and shrubbery ; and we 
soon reach the mansion of Hughenden, which, although a very 
large house, is not pretentious-looking nor very handsome. We 
pass through great gates of ornamental iron-work, surmounted by 
the gilded crown and castle of the Disraeli coat-of-arms. 

The grounds immediately around the house are kept in very 
fine order ; the broad gravel drive is as smooth and hard as a floor, 
while the grass is cut and rolled so that there does not seem to be 
a single blade more than half an inch high. Instead of a portico, 
we see on each side of the entrance-door, which is but a step above 
the ground, a large space, enclosed with great panes of plate-glass, 
filled with most beautiful flowers and tropical plants, which give a 
very cheerful and bright appearance to the house. 

We are met at the door by a neat little woman dressed in 
black, who is the housekeeper, and looks at first in a rather for- 
bidding way ; but when she hears we are Americans who wish to 
see the house, she smiles very pleasantly and invites us to walk in. 
English country houses, during the absence of their owners, are 
13 



194 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

generally shown to respectable visitors. This house is occupied 
at present by a gentleman who will live here until the nephew of 
the late owner comes of age, but the house is kept in the same 
condition that it was when Lord Beaconsfield was alive. It is 
furnished with simple elegance, but there is nothing grand or 
gorgeous about it, such as we might expect to see in the home 
of the man who wrote " Lothair," and who made his Queen the 
Empress of India. There is a room which was furnished for 
Queen Victoria, when she made a visit here, and some of the girls 
may take an interest in a chair which was embroidered by the 
Princess Beatrice. 

VvHien we have taken leave of the housekeeper, and have 
dropped some silver into her hand, we drive out through another 
part of the park and go on a few miles farther to, the important 
town of Wycombe ; and here we have an opportunity of seeing an 
English country town on market-day. Many of the houses are 
very old-fashioned, having upper stories projecting two or three 
feet over the sidewalk, with funny little shops beneath. The main 
street is very wide, and to-day very busy ; everywhere we see 
farmers who have come, some in spring-carts and some on horse- 
back; all sorts of people are walking among the vehicles, and a 
great part of the street is occupied by little pens in which sheep 
or calves are confined, while cows are standing by the curbstone 
— the purchasers and sellers talking and shouting around them. 
Passing the live-stock, we see large spaces in the street covered 
with cheap tin and wooden ware; and, besides these, there are 
aispla3^s of dry goods and all sorts of things which country people 
would come to town to buy. It is more like a fair than a market, 
and, although we are rather late in the day to see the best of it, it 
is a very bustling and interesting scene. 

It is now time for ourselves and our horses to have something 



IN ENGLISH COUNTRY. 195 

to eat : so we go to the Red Lion Inn, over the door of which is 
a great wooden Hon, painted red, with a long, straight tail, with a 
tuft at the end like a dust-brusho This is one of the old-time 
inns, such as we read about in Dickens's stories. We drive under 
an archway which leads back to the stables ; and on one side is 
a door opening into the handsomely furnished bar, behind the 
counter of which is a nice buxom Englishwoman; and beyond this 
is the tap-room, where the farmers sit down to drink their ale and 
been We alight at the door to the right, which leads to the coffee- 
room, a large room with a long, wide dining-table in the centre. 
The furniture is heavy, but very comfortable, and the walls are 
hung with a variety of pictures, a series of which show the vari- 
ous accidents which used to befall the old stage-coaches. We sit 
around the table, and when a great joint of cold beef, the half of 
a cheese, a loaf of bread, some butter, some lettuce and water- 
cresses, and two or three pitchers of brown stout or ale have been 
placed before us, the waiter goes away, and leaves us to eat and 
drink as much as we please. This is the usual fashion in the 
English inns ; a portion is not brought to each one, but we cut 
w^hat we like from the joint, the loaf, and the cheese, and all are 
charged the same, whether they eat little or much. 

When we have eaten a hearty meal, and have looked at all 
the dogs, horses, coaches, and portraits on the walls, we " tip " the 
waiter, "tip" the hostlers who hav^ taken care of our horses, "tip" 
the bar-maid who brings us our change, and drive away home by a 
different road from that we came. 

We pass a beautiful park belonging to Lady Dashwood, which 
extends for a long distance ; and not far from the road we see the 
family mausoleum, which is a large temple-like building on the top 
of a hill. It seems rather queer, afterward, to meet a common 
cart with Lady Dashwood's name on it ; but all vehicles used for 



196 



PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 



draught on public roads in England must have painted upon them 
the name of the owner, and we may sometimes see an earl's name 
upon a hay-wagon or a cart loaded with gravel. Some of the 
famous and wealthy family of Rothschild live in this county, and 




A QUIET BIT OF ENGLISH COUNTRY. 



whenever we pass one of their farm gates we see the initials of the 
owner painted upon it. In our country it is very seldom that we 
can find out in this way the owners of the estates we see. 

Very often, when we pass a cottage by the roadside, we notice, 
through the open door, a woman with a little pillow on her lap, 
making lace. A great deal of lace of a pretty but not very expen- 



IN ENGLISH COUNTRY, 197 

sive kind is made by the poor women in this part of the country, 
but they do not get much money by it. Near some of these 
cottages we meet three or four little girls, coarsely but neatly 
dressed, who are coming home from school. We are amused to 
see them form into line, and each drop us a little bob of a courtesy, 
the motion being very much like that of a fishing-cork when a 
big perch has just given the line a pull. As a rule, however, 
the country people we meet take little notice of us, one way or 
another. 

English people, rich and poor, are very fond of flowers, and 
nearly every cottage has its little garden full of blooming plants 
and shrubs. It is true that many of the flowers are of very old- 
fashioned and common kinds, but they are none the less pretty 
for that. 

On another day we will drive to Wendover, which is a very 
interesting and pretty village, full of Queen Anne cottages. There 
are plenty of cottages of this style around the suburbs of our large 
cities ; but those we see here were built in Queen Anne's time, 
and I doubt if the village has changed very much since the days 
of that good lady. If we happen to want any postage-stamps, or 
some pens and paper, it will be well for us to go into a little shop, 
which is also the post-office, and see what a queer place an English 
country shop may be, with its low ceiling, its woodwork darkened 
by time, its little windows, and the neat old woman with white cap 
and apron who waits on us. 

When we have driven and walked as much as we please through 
this beautiful county of Bucks, we shall have a good idea of Eng- 
lish country life where the influence of railroads and cities is little 
felt. But we could go into other country places, and find scenes 
and people very different from those among which we have been. 
Although England is so small, there is much variety in her land- 



198 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

scape and country, as well as in the manners and customs of the 
people. 

We shall visit various places of Interest in England, but I can 
speak of but one of them now. This is Warwick Castle (here 
pronounced Worrick), which once belonged to the famous Earl of 
Warwick, the " king-maker." As the family is away (nearly all 
great country families are in London at this season of the year), 
we can visit this celebrated castle and get an idea of high life in 
the English country, both as it is to-day and as it was in the 
Middle Ages. 

This immense building is the finest feudal castle now remaining 
in England, It stands upon a high rocky bluff overlooking the 
River Avon ; and when we have walked up through the grounds, 
we see before us the hugfe battlements and towers of a real baro- 
nial castle. On one side of the entrance is Csesar's Tower, which 
dates back to the Norman Conquest ; on the other side is Guy's 
Tower, a fortress one hundred and eighty feet high, with walls ten. 
feet thick. Between these is the arched gateway, with an ancient 
portcullis armed with spikes, which, by the orders of the present 
earl, who likes to keep up everything In the olden fashion, is let 
down and bolted every night. The inner court is a wide, grassy 
square, surrounded by the towers and buildings of the castle. 

We first enter the great hall, which Is large and lofty enough 
for a church. All around the walls we see spears, battle-axes, and 
other weapons belonging to the ancient earls, some of them once 
used by the great Guy of Warwick, who lived in the tenth century, 
and who Is said to have been nearly eight feet high. In this hall 
is an immense iron pot, which Is called Guy's punch-bowl. From 
this room we look, for a distance of three hundred feet, through a 
line of splendid apartments. These rooms, called the red drawing- 
room, the gilt drawing-room, and so on, are furnished in the most 



IN ENGLISH COUNTRY. 199 

costly and magnificent manner, many of the tables and other 
furniture being lavishly inlaid with silver and valuable stones. 

Farther on we come to the state bedroom, which was once 
used by Queen Anne, and among the other interesting things in 
the room we see the queen's trunk, which, although a very large 
and fine one for those days, is as different in weight and strength 
from our trunks as one of our houses is from one of her fortresses. 
All these rooms contain valuable paintings by old and modern 
artists, besides works of art in bronze and marble ; and when we 
reach the corner room, and look out of the window, we find we are 
almost level with the top of a great cedar of Lebanon which is 
growing on the river-bank beneath us. We shall want to stop 
in the armory, which is a long passage, crowded on each side with 
weapons of many kinds — battle-axes, swords, spears, daggers, old- 
fashioned flint-lock guns, bows and arrows, and some arms of a 
more modern date. After passing through some other fine rooms, 
we go out again into the courts, where a great peacock is walking 
about on the grass, looking as proud as if he were one of the 
armed knights who with squires and pages were so often seen there 
in days gone by. 

The town of Warwick is very interesting in itself, and when 
we enter it from the west it is by a gate which leads us directly 
through an old church-tower. 

A most interesting place is the old Leicester Hospital, which 
was founded by that Robert Dudley whom Queen Elizabeth made 
Earl of Leicester, and who will be well remembered by every one 
who has read Scott's novel " Kenilworth." It was one of his few 
good deeds. This hospital supports twelve old soldiers and their 
wives. It is a beautifully picturesque group of old half-timber 
buildings, in excellent preservation, and is now very much what it 
was in the sixteenth century. In the kitchen, which is the com- 



200 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

mon sitting-room, hangs a piece of embroidery worked by Amy 
Robsart. 

English country Hfe in grand castles, and in the mansions of 
the aristocracy and the upper classes, is very different from what 
we have seen. It is, in fact, -more stately, more luxurious, and 
more costly than life in town. The great houses are filled with 
visitors during the country season, and hospitality is generally 
extended on a magnificent scale, with the finest cooks, fashionable 
hours for meals, and all sorts of entertainments. The life we have 
been leading is simply that of well-to-do people in rural England. 



XI. 



THE LOW COUNTRIES AND THE RHINE. 

WE are now about to make an excursion from London, which 
will be quite an extensive one, embracing Holland, and 
Belgium, and a part of Germany. As this is to be what 
is called a round trip, in which we shall not stop very long in any 
one place, we will take with us only valises, or such baggage as we 
can carry in our hands. We leave London about eight o'clock in 
the evening, and go by train to Harwich (pronounced Harridge). 
If we were to make a journey at this hour in America we should 
not see much of the country ; but in England the twilight lasts a 
long time, and in this season of early summer one can see to read 
in the open air at nine o'clock, and it is not really dark for an hour 
afterward, so that we can see as much of the rural scenery of the 
county of Essex as we choose to look at. At Harwich our train 
takes us directly to the steamship landing, and there we find a 
vessel ready to sail for Antwerp, and another for Rotterdam, and 
our tickets allow us to go by either way and come back by the 
other. We choose to visit Holland first, and so go in the direc- 
tion of the signboard painted Rotterdam, and take the steamer for 
that place. Our trip across the German Ocean will probably be a 
pleasant one, for these waters are generally smooth at this season, 
and we shall go to our berths soon after we start, and, it is to be 
hoped, sleep soundly all the night. 

When we wake in the morning we find ourselves in the river 
Maas, on which the city of Rotterdam is situated. On each side 



202 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

of us lies the queer country of Holland, and the views we have 
are unlike any we have ever seen before, or are likely to see again 
except in this same country of the Dutch. The land is flat, and 
would be uninteresting, except for the fact that it is lower than 
the surface of the river on which we are sailing. There must be 
an interest attached to this country when we consider that if the 
great dykes, or banks, on each side of the river were broken down, 
even for a comparatively short distance, the whole land would soon 
be covered with water, and become a part of the German Ocean. 
The people of Holland are always on their guard to keep out that 
ocean, and if ever there is danger from storms, or unusual tides, 
the alarm-bells are rung, and men and women flock out by day or 
night to help mend any breach that may be made by the water. 
This German Ocean, or North Sea, backed up by its allies, the 
Arctic and the Atlantic Ocean, is an enemy which is continually 
laying siege to Holland. If it should ever destroy the strong for- 
tifications which she has thrown up to defend herself, good-by to 
the populous, fertile, and rich land of the Dutch ! 

We sail on for several hours, passing a little fortified town 
where the custom-house officers come on board to examine our 
baggage, and every now and then we see small houses, and some- 
times villages, not far from the river. After a time we notice a 
town some distance back, which seems to be a great manufacturing 
place, judging from the smxoke above it. This is Schiedam, where 
the inhabitants devote themselves principally to making gin. The 
town is a small one, but it contains about two hundred distilleries, 
and it gets very rich by supplying the whole world with Holland 
gin. Everywhere, scattered about the country, we have seen wind- 
mills, their great arms moving slowly around. But of these Schie- 
dam seems to have more than its share, for around about this town 
we can count at least sixty of them. After steaming for several 



THE LOW COUNTRIES AND THE RHINE. 



203 



hours over this smooth river and between these flat lowlands, we 
reach the city 
of Rotterdam, 
where our 
steamer stops. 
We shall 
not make a 
long stay at 
Rotterdam, 
but in a few 
hours we can 
see a great 
deal that is 
novel and 
curious. The 
quays, which 
stretch for 
more than a 
mile along 
the river, are 
busy and 
lively places, 
for Rotter- 
dam does a 
great trade 
with the East 
and other 
parts of the 
world, and 

A DUTCH WINDMILL. 

from here 

most of the Dutch emigrants start for America. The houses are 




204 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

extremely clean and neat, many of them four and five stories high, 
and most of them so constructed that the lower stories can be shut 
up and made water-tight in case the river should break through 
the dykes. There are so many canals in this city, that Rotterdam 
has been called ** a vulgar Venice." These canals are crossed by 
a great many drawbridges, and in some of our walks we may have 
to wait while a ship or barge is passing. On some canals these 
vessels are obliged to pay toll, and we shall be amused to see how 
this is collected. The toll-man stands on the bridge with a pole 
and a line, to the end of which a little bag is attached. This he 
holds as if he were fishing, and lowers the bag to the people in the 
boat, who put their money into it. 

From Rotterdam we will go by the railroad to The Hague, 
which is the capital of Holland, and on the way we pass Delft, a 
town once famous for its pottery, and which is interesting to Amer- 
icans from the fact that it is the place from which the Pilgrim 
Fathers started on the voyage which ended at Plymouth Rock. 
And here we find that even in Holland we cannot get rid of the 
ancient Romans. From Delft to The Hague there is a canal 
which was made by that everywhere-turning-up people. The 
Hague is a large and handsome city, but we shall be most inter- 
ested in its museum, where there is a very fine art gallery. Here 
we see paintings principally by the great Dutch and Flemish mas- 
ters, among which are some of the finest works of Rembrandt, and 
of David Teniers, Wouverman, and other celebrated painters. 

We now go by rail to Amsterdam, which is the largest city of 
Holland, and where we shall make our longest stay. One reason 
why we shall not do much lingering in Holland is that it is a very 
expensive country for travellers, and when we compare what we 
are here charged at hotels and other places with the exceedingly 
reasonable prices of Italy and Switzerland, we feel inclined to see 



THE LOW COUNTRIES AND THE RHINE. 205 

all there is to see, and get on to some country where the land is 
not so low and the charges are not so high. 

Amsterdam is a city of canals, and yet we are not constantly 
impressed that it is a water city, as we are in Venice. The town 
lies at the end of the Y, which is a gulf of the Zuyder Zee ; and 
there are several great canals, shaped like the segments of concen- 
tric circles, intersected by some three hundred smaller canals ; and 
yet there are so many streets and squares, and places where we 
can drive about as freely as in any other city, that there really 
is little comparison between Amsterdam and the horseless city of 
the Adriatic. Most of the houses are very tall, very narrow, and 
stand with their gable-ends to the street. These gables are gen- 
erally built in an ornamental form, and present a very odd and 
varied appearance. At the top of nearly every house we see a 
projecting beam, with a rope and tackle, by which heavy goods, 
marketing, fuel, and such household commodities are drawn up 
from the street or canal below to the various floors. This saves a 
great deal of trouble in getting up-stairs. 

As we walk or drive about we shall not be likely to forget that 
this is a Dutch town. The front doors of the houses, some of* 
which are approached by little flights of steps that run up side- 
ways, while others are so low that they look as if part of the door 
was below the street, have such bright brass plates and knobs, and 
everything looks so clean and fresh, that I should not be sur- 
prised to be told that the lower part of every house-front was 
washed and polished every day ; and if we should see, standing 
in the doorway, a Dutch maid-servant, she would very likely be 
as clean and bright and fresh as the houses, which is saying a 
great deal. On many of the doors of private dwellings we see 
the names of the occupants painted in good large letters, and 
this shows that when Dutch people go into a house they expect 



206 



PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 



to stay there, and do not move about as much as the inhabitants 
of that city they founded on Manhattan Island. 

There are over three hundred thousand people here, and we 

see a great 
many of them 
both in the 
streets and on 
the canals. 
There is 
nothing very 
striking in 
the dress of 
the working- 
men, but some 
■' of the women 
are curiously 
attired, espe- 
cially those who 
come in from the 
country. The women 
of the different prov- 
inces are known by 
their head-dresses, 
and some of these appear as if 
the originators of them had puz- 
zled their brains to see what 
queer and fantastic head-gear 
they could devise. Golden or- 
naments and plates are very frequently seen, some with spiral 
twists in front like golden curls. These adornments, with heavy 
silver or golden earrings, are often the principal part of a 




A HOUSE ON THE DUNES. 



THE LOW COUNTRIES AND THE RHINE. 207 

woman's property, and descend from mother to daughter for gen- 
erations. 

There is a large park here, where we may meet the Dutch 
aristocracy, who are very fine-looking people, driving about in 
their handsome carriages. On a street near by is a very curious 
house which we must visit. It is built and furnished in the fashion 
of an old Dutch house of two or three centuries ago. It is full of 
all sorts of old furniture, coins, books, and other interesting relics of 
olden times. There is a bedroom, furnished in a queer ancient style, 
with old-fashioned clothes, and so on, hanging about, and a queer 
cradle with the cap and socks of a baby whose great-grandchildren 
probably died of old age long ago. Down in the kitchen, the walls 
of which are hung with all sorts of pots, pans, and other utensils, 
while cheese-presses, scales, and such things stand on the polished 
floor, we see a woman dressed in the olden fashion of a cook. She 
wears a great gold plate on the back of her head, which makes 
her look as if a piece of her skull had been taken out and this set 
in its place. 

One of the great industries of Amsterdam is the cutting and 
polishing of diamonds ; and nearly all the finest diamonds in the 
world are brought here to be cut into shape. We will make a visit 
to one of the principal diamond establishments, and when we get 
there I think we shall be surprised to find a great factory, four or 
five stories high, a steam-engine in the basement, and fly-wheels, 
and leather bands, and all sorts of whirring machinery in the differ- 
ent stories. On the very top floor the diamonds are finished and 
polished, and here we see skilful workmen sitting before rapidly 
revolving disks of steel, against which the diamonds are pressed 
and polished. It requires great skill, time, and patience before one 
of these valuable gems is got into that shape in which it will best 
shine, sparkle, and show its purity. Nearly half the diamonds pro- 



2o8 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

duced in the world, the best of which come from Brazil, are sent to 
this factory to be cut and polished. Here the great Koh-i-noor 
was cut ; and we are shown models of that and of other famous 
diamonds that were cut in these rooms. 

From Amsterdam we go by rail to Cologne, a short day's journey. 
For the first few hours the view is such as we may see nearly all 
over Holland: broad flat fields without fences, but divided by ditches 
and canals, stretch in every direction. Most of these are pasture 
lands, on which great numbers of • fine cattle are grazing. These 
cows, which are all either black or white, or partly black and partly 
white, belong to a breed of great milkers, and they look in excel- 
lent condition. Some of them, which probably have slight colds, 
are nearly covered with cloth or canvas securely fastened around 
them. Portions of the land are cultivated, and look very dark and 
rich. Many of these fields have been reclaimed from the water 
which used to cover this part of the country. The cottages and 
farm-houses are generally small, and mixed up very closely with 
cow-stables and barns. Sometimes we see pleasant-looking villas 
and residences, and now and then we pass through towns and 
villages. After a time we come to a part of the country chiefly 
composed of sand-hills, or dunes, where the people have little to 
depend upon but the fir-trees, the only things that easily grow here. 
When a child Is born, a certain number of fir-trees are planted, 
which will be its property when it grows up. 

At the small town of Elton we pass from Holland into Germany, 
and here our baggage is examined. Before long we reach the 
River Rhine, which we cross on a steam ferry-boat, which is pro- 
pelled by a very odd sort of a wire cable. The train is run on 
board this boat ; and when we reach the other side, a strong loco- 
motive comes down into the shallow water, on rails which are partly 
submerged, and pulls us up the bank. This is not the first time 



THE LOW COUNTRIES AND THE RHINE. 



209 



we have crossed this famous river, which flows into the sea a little 
north of The Hague, but we have heretofore merely passed over 
it as if it had been any ordinary stream crossed by a railroad. 
The Rhine, although quite broad, is not much to look at here, but 




DINING-ROOM IN A DUTCH HOUSE. 



we will wait and see what we shall see after a while. The porters 
at the German railroad stations are dressed in such fine green 
uniforms that we shall probably mistake them for some of the 
higher officers of the road ; but when we see the conductors and 
station-masters, who wear much finer uniforms, and who have more 
military airs, we shall get the matter straight in our minds. The 
14 



2IO PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

railroad we are on does not, as in England, cross common roads 
by bridges and tunnels, but all roads intersecting it are closed by- 
gates, and at every one of these, and at every little farm gate open- 
ing on the railroad, there stands an official, who, as the train passes, 
draws himself up in military fashion, toes out, chin up, with a short 
stick in his hand, which he holds as he would a gun. No one can 
cross one of these railroads when a train is due. 

Cologne is chiefly interesting to visitors on account of its 
Cathedral and its Cologne water. To see the one and to buy 
some of the other are the two great objects of travellers here. 
But, apart from these principal attractions, we shall find the city 
very interesting. Most of the streets are queer and old, some of 
the houses dating from the thirteenth century ; and the Rhine, 
which is here crossed by a long bridge of boats, presents a very busy 
and lively scene with its craft of many kinds. As soon as we can 
we will go to the Cathedral, which is the grandest Gothic church in 
the world. It was begun in 1248, but was not finished until 1880. 
It has two immense and beautiful spires, over five hundred feet 
high, and nearly the whole outside is covered with lovely archi- 
tectural ornamentation and sculptures. Inside the immense build- 
ing is wonderfully beautiful and imposing. Light comes through 
great stained-glass windows on either side, and from others, also 
charmingly colored, high up near the arches of the roof. There 
is a great deal to be seen in the chapels and other portions of this 
church. In the reliquary are kept the "three kings of Cologne," 
which are believed to be the bones of the Magi who came to do 
reverence to the Infant Jesus. These were taken from Jerusalem 
by the Empress Helena, and presented to the Cathedral by the 
Emperor Barbarossa in 11 64. We may look through some open- 
work in the sarcophagus, and see the three heads, or skulls, of 
the kings, each wearing a golden crown. 



THE LOW COUNTRIES AND THE RHINE. 



211 



The real Cologne water is made by Johann Maria Farina, but 
when we go out to buy some, we may be a little perplexed by find- 
ing that there are some thirty or forty people of this name, all of 




THE CATHEDRAL OF COLOGNE. 



whom keep shops for the sale of Cologne water. There are a great 
many descendants of the original inventor of this perfume, and 
the law does not permit anyone to assume the name who does not 
belong to the family ; but the boy babies of the Farinas are gener- 
ally baptized Johann Maria, so that they can go into the Cologne 



212 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED, 

water business' when they grow up. There are two or three shops 
where the best and " original " water is sold, and at one of these 
we buy some of the celebrated perfume, generally sold to travellers 
in small wooden boxes containing four or six bottles, which we get 
at a very reasonable price compared with what we have to pay for 
it in America. We cannot take much more than this, because 
Cologne water is classed as spirits by the custom-house authorities 
in England, and each traveller is allowed to bring only a small 
quantity of it into that country. 

The most beautiful part of the celebrated and romantic River 
Rhine lies between Bonn, not far above Cologne, and the little 
town of Bingen ; and to see this world-famed river at its best, we 
must make a trip upon it on a steamboat. It takes much longer 
to go up the river than to come down with the current ; and so we 
go to Bingen by rail, stay there all night, and make our Rhine 
voyage the next day. 

" Fair Bingen on the Rhine," of which most of us have read in 
Mrs. Norton's poem about "the soldier of the Legion" who "lay 
dying at Algiers," is a very pretty little town on the river bank, 
nearly opposite the Niederwald, a low mountain, on the side of 
which stands the immense monumental statue of Germania. This 
great monument was recently erected in commemoration of the 
unity of the German Empire. If we choose, we can cross the river, 
go up the mountain, and inspect this monument ; but we get a very 
good view of it from where we are. 

The next morning we go on board a large and handsome steam- 
boat, and begin a river trip which has been more talked about, 
written about, and sung about, than any other in the world. 

The portion of the Rhine, about a hundred miles in length, 
over which we shall pass to-day, lies between low hills and moun- 
tains, some of which are precipitous and rocky, some gently sloping 



THE LOW COUNTRIES AND THE RHINE. 



213 



down Into the water, the sides of nearly all of them planted In vine- 
yards, varied by verdant pasture lands, trees, and picturesque bits 
of forest. Sometimes the mountains recede from the shore, leaving 




room for .1 
town or vil- 
1 a g e , and 
sometimes the 
houses seem 
as well satis- 
fied upon the hill- 
side as on the level 
ground. High up, 
on projecting bluffs, 

and occasionally on the very mountain-tops, stand the ruins of 
great castles of the olden times. Some of these consist of but a 
few storm-battered towers and walls ; while others, which have 



THE CASTLE OF RHEINSTEIN. 



214 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

successfully defied man, time, and storms, are still in such good 
condition as to be inhabited. These were the castles and strong- 
holds of the feudal barons and the robber chiefs of history, song, 
and legend ; and they give to the natural beauties of the Rhine a 
charm which is not possessed by any other river. As our boat 
goes on over the swiftly-flowing stream, stopping at many points, 
every turn of the river shows us some new combination of land- 
scape, and some different beauty. 

Soon after beginning our trip we pass, upon a little island in 
the river, an ancient stone tower, which is called the Mouse 
Tower. There is an old story connected with this tower, about 
a certain bishop who, long ago, for his cruelty to his people in 
time of famine, was devoured here by hordes of rats or mice. 
Not far away, and high above us, stand the ruins of the tower 
of Ehrenfels, built in 1210. Very soon we see the grand Castle 
of Rheinstein, whose towers and turrets and walls, some of which 
have been restored, stand as they stood six hundred years ago. 
A great iron basket, or brazier, once used as a beacon-light, still 
hangs from the outer walls, three hundred feet above the river. 
Further on is the Castle of Falkenberg, once famous as the home 
of the robber knights. The towns of the Rhine united against 
these much-feared marauders, and nearly destroyed their castle 
in 1 25 1, but they went back again, and the place was afterward 
captured by Rudolph of Hapsburg, who hung the robber knights 
from the windows. 

We are now passing regions of vineyard, where some of the 
most famous wines of the world are produced, and? although we 
may be astonished to see on what steep hills and mountain-sides 
the vines are growing, we would have been still more surprised if 
we could have seen the manner in which some of these vineyards 
were made. Many of them are on high, rocky terraces, to which 



THE LOW COUNTRIES AND THE RHINE. 215 

the earth has been laboriously carried in baskets on the backs of 
men and women. Some of these vineyards are so steep that it 
would seem that the vine-growers must stand upon ladders in 
order to hoe and cultivate the ground, and in some places we may 
think it even impossible for the laborers to stick to their work. 
The vines are so carefully pruned, that they do not conceal the 
tilled ground, and the mountains and hillsides would be much 
prettier in grass, forest, and beetling crags than in vineyards ; but 
the wine from this region is so valuable that if the vines could be 
made to grow everywhere, all the land we see would be covered 
with vineyards. 

We soon pass one of the oldest castles on the Rhine ; it was 
built in 1015. It has gone through a great many troubles, but has 
recently been put into good order, and is one of the country resi- 
dences of the royal family of Prussia. 

On we go, sometimes passing little towns, one of which, Lorch, 
has been mentioned in history for more than a thousand years; 
more castles appear on the cliffs, among them Nollingen, standing 
nearly six hundred feet above us, at the summit of a jagged cliff 
called "The Devil's Ladder," up which, the legends say, a brave 
knight rode on his gallant steed to rescue a lady from the gnomes 
of the mountain. Now and then we pass an island, on one of 
which stands a strangely fortified little castle, and after a time 
we come to the famous " Rocks of Lurlei," which rise to a great 
height above a swift and dangerous whirlpool. Here, the stories 
tell us, a siren used to sit and sing songs to passing voyagers, who, 
when they stopped to listen to her, were drawn into the whirl- 
pool. As there is no danger of the captain of our steamboat stop- 
ping for any such tomfoolery, not even the youngest of us need be 
afraid at passing this grewsome place. 

Near the town of St. Goar stands the immense Castle of Rhein- 



2i6 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

fels, the largest on the Rhine, and it presents a grand and imposing 
appearance, although it is much in ruins, having had hard times in 
many wars. 

More castles now come in sight, more mountains, more vine- 
yards, and more little villages, two of them particularly picturesque, 
being united by a long double row of trees. Flourishing towns, 
too, we pass, some of them quite busy places ; and, after a time, 
we see the gloomy old Castle of Marksburg, fuller of dungeons 
and secret chambers and dark passages than any other here ; and 
it looks gloomier yet when we know that it is still used as a 
prison. 

We now reach Coblentz, a large and important old town, oppo- 
site which is the vast fortress of Ehrenbreitstein, which is one of 
the largest and strongest in Europe, and is called " The Gibraltar 
of the Rhine." It has stood there for centuries, and has sustained 
many blockades and sieges. It is now greatly improved, and is 
occupied by soldiers of the German Empire. 

Neuendorf is a little town, from which start the great rafts of 
the Rhine. These rafts are made up of smaller ones, which come 
down from the timber regions along the river, and are of extraor- 
dinary size, being sometimes six hundred feet long, and two hun- 
dred wide, or as large as an up-town New York block. They carry 
a great number of men, with their wives and children, who live in 
little houses built on the rafts. They are steered by very long 
oars, each held by a crowd of men ; and these floating islands, with 
the scenes on them, will be sure to interest us. 

The castles now become fewer, although we see some very fine 
ruins, and one new and very large and handsome castle. The 
scenery changes somewhat, and at one place there is a wide stretch 
of level country. The village of Remagen will be interesting 
because near it is the spring from which comes the famous Apolli- 



THE LOW COUNTRIES AND THE RHINE, 



217 



naris water. The little town is very busy, and boxes and bottles 
abound. Near by, on a height, is a most beautiful little Gothic 
church, built by the architect who finished Cologne Cathedral. 




THE FORTRESS OF EHRENBREITSTEIN. 



We also pass a point where Julius Caesar, when he was at work 
conquering this part of the world, built the first bridge across the 
Rhine. And in this connection I may say, that the -business of 
vine-growing on this river was started by the ancient Romans. 



2l8 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

We now pass the Drachenfels, or Dragon's Rock, and enter 
the region of the beautiful Seven Mountains ; and when we reach 
the town of Bonn, we have gone over the most interesting and 
picturesque part of the river. Here we leave the steamboat, and 
take rail for Cologne, after a day on the Rhine, which I am sure 
none of us will ever forget. 

The next day we take the railroad for Brussels, and on the way 
pass through some very picturesque portions of Belgium, and at 
one point we are not very far from the battle-field of Waterloo. 
Many persons visit this place to inspect the various monuments 
erected there ; but, besides these, there is nothing to indicate that 
on these now peaceful fields one of the greatest battles of the world 
was fought. 

We find Brussels a cheerful, busy, and very handsome small- 
sized city, something like a condensed Paris. Many of the streets 
are wide and imposing, with tall houses of very attractive and orna- 
mental architecture ; while the shop windows are so numerous, and 
so brightly and even splendidly filled, that we can but think of the 
Palais Royal and the grand boulevards of the French capital. 
Everywhere there is an air of gayety, fashion, and costliness. 
There are a great many fine parks and open places, and long 
avenues for driving, lined with trees. One of the public buildings, 
the Palais de Justice, built for the courts of law, is a grand and 
magnificent edifice. It cost twelve million dollars, and is one of 
the finest buildings in Europe. 

A small public square is surrounded by a very novel collection 
of life-size bronze statues, representing the various trades. Here 
is the baker with his loaves, the carpenter with his saws and ham- 
mers, the gardener with his spade and hoe, and nearly everybody 
who works in Brussels can come here and see a bronze personifica- 
tion of his trade. Statues and monuments are frequent in the city, 




THE h6TEL DE VILLE OF BRUSSELS. 



THE LOW COUNTRIES AND THE RHINE. 221 

* 

and in whatever way money could be spent in making Brussels 
beautiful, it has been spent. 

In the Grande Place, where stands the Hotel de Ville, or Town 
Hall, we see some of the fine buildings of olden times. The 
Maison du Rol, or King's House, was built in the early part of the 
sixteenth century, and many of the other tall houses belonged to^ 
the guilds or wealthy trades-unions of the Middle Ages. This open 
square is full of historical associations. Here tournaments and 
pageants were held, here fierce fights took place, and here some 
of the heroes of Belgium were executed. This place Is in the old 
part of the city, and is full of life, activity, and interest. 

The "galleries," or long covered arcades, are full of attractive 
shops and restaurants. 

Brussels lace is celebrated all over the world, and we must not 
fail to visit one of the places where this beautiful and costly lace is 
made. Here we see a number of women, very quiet, very neatly 
dressed, and in some cases with wonderfully delicate and soft- 
looking hands, although they are all plain working-women. Each 
is busy fashioning the delicate pattern of a piece of lace ; and it is 
said that each woman has a pattern of her own, which she always 
makes, and which, perhaps, descended to her from her mother and 
grandmother. Some of the women are working on cushions, with 
pins and bobbins, and some are using needles and the finest and 
most delicate of thread. We are told that this thread is all made 
by hand, and it is so delicate that it has to be spun in damp cellars, 
because in the dry upper air it would break before it is finished. 
There are old women in Brussels who have spent nearly all their 
lives spinning in cellars. 

Brussels is a little city, but it is as bright, as handsome, and 
in some respects as grand and splendid as if it were a large 
one. 



2 22 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

A very different city is Antwerp, distant only about an hour's 
journey. This old Flemish town has long been a great commer- 
cial centre ; and, although Antwerp is very wealthy and very busy, 
it has none of the modern splendors of Brussels. It is old-fash- 
ioned, quaint, and queer. In the more modern quarter there are 
fine streets and avenues, with a park and zoological garden, yet it 
is the old quarter of Antwerp which is most attractive to visitors. 
Here the streets are generally narrow ; and the tall houses, with 
their towering gable-ends so curiously notched and curved, stand 
looking at one another, not with a fresh, bright air, as if they were 
Dutch, but with a quiet manner which seems to say that they have 
grown gray standing there, and cannot be expected to look bright 
and fresh. 

Antwerp lies on the River Scheldt, and its long water-front is 
crowded with the ships of every nation. Not only do they crowd 
the wharves and piers, but by means of short canals they come up 
into large inland docks, where we can see all the different kinds of 
ships that sail upon the sea. Everything in this part of the town 
seems intended in some way for sailors, and the number of little 
cabarets, or inns, where the hardy seamen can get something to eat 
and drink, is indeed surprising. 

The low, heavy trucks, on which barrels and bales and all sorts 
of merchandise are carried to and from the ships, are drawn by 
great Flemish horses, very heavy, very strong, and very well fed 
and cared for. It is a pleasure to look at these fine creatures 
gravely walking through the streets with great loads behind them 
which they do not seem to think of at all. There is another class 
of animals used for draught purposes, which will perhaps attract 
our attention more than the stout horses. These are the dogs 
which help to pull the milk-carts about the city. The milk is in 
bright brass cans and vessels, which are carried in a light hand- 



THE LOW COUNTRIES AND THE RHINE. 223 



cart generally pushed by a vigorous girl or woman. The dog 




SKETCHES IN ANTWERP. 



is fastened underneath, and, whether he be big or little, he pulls 
with such a will that he makes the girl step along at a lively pace 



224 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

Dogs are also harnessed to carts which carry about vegetables, ice- 
cream, and other wares. The ice-cream carts are generally dressed 
off in gay colors to attract attention. 

The young women of the lower classes go about the streets 
without hats or bonnets, no matter what the weather may be, and 
it is very pleasant to see them, with their neat dresses, and their 
hair so smooth and tightly braided. Some of the older women 
wear lace or muslin caps, with a great flap on each side like 
elephant ears. 

The Cathedral of Antwerp is a very fine one, and is remark- 
able for its beautiful spire, which is so curiously built in a sort of 
net-work of stone that it has been likened to a piece of the lace- 
work of the country. It is difficult to get a good idea of the out- 
side of the church, for houses, little and big, crowd around it on 
all sides, sometimes squeezing close up to it, as if standing-room 
were very scarce in Antwerp. This spire contains a famous chime 
of bells, ninety-nine in number, the largest of which is such a mon- 
ster that it takes sixteen men to ring it, while the smallest is no 
larger than a hand-bell. These chimes are rung very often, every 
hour, every half hour, and every quarter of an hour, and a little 
ring between the quarters. The bells are so harmonious, and have 
so sweet a tone, that even if we should stay at a hotel quite near 
the cathedral, we should not be disturbed by them.; and should we 
wake in the night and hear the ringing of those musical bells, we 
would merely turn over and dream the better for it. The interior 
of the cathedral is very large, though rather plain, and contains 
some remarkable life-size statues carved in wood, and Rubens's 
greatest picture, " The Descent from the Cross," besides other 
paintings by that master. Rubens belongs to Antwerp, and the 
citizens are very proud of him. There is a fine statue of him in 
one of the squares, and his paintings are to be found in every 



THE LOW COUNTRIES AND THE RHINE. 225 

church. In one of the churches he is buried, and the house where 
he Hved still stands. 

In an open space, by the side of the cathedral, is Quentin 
Matsys's Well, with its curious iron-work cover. The artist-black- 
smith is another son of Antwerp of whom she is proud. 

The Museum, or Art Gallery, contains a very fine collection of 
pictures by the Flemish school of artists, and among them a num- 
ber by Rubens and Van Dyck. 

And now we betake ourselves to the river-front, and embark on 
a handsome English vessel, and steam away down the broad River 
Scheldt to the sea. As we look back we shall see for many miles 
the tall and lace-like spire of the cathedral reaching up to the sky. 
The river-banks are not very interesting, but we shall see some 
forts of a rather curious construction, and when we reach Flushing, 
near the mouth of the Scheldt, and when we have dropped into a 
Httle boat the pilot who has guided us through the difficult chan- 
nel of the river, we sail out upon the German Ocean ; and early 
the next morning we are at Harwich again, whence we take the 
train for London, and our round trip is over. 
15 



XII. 



THE PEOPLE WE MEET. 

IN our travels in the various countries through which I have 
conducted you, the people we have met have contributed very 

much to the interest of our journey. The natives of these 
countries attracted our attention because they were French or 
Italian or German or Dutch, and had some national habits and 
customs quite different from our own ; but in travelling about we 
naturally saw a great deal of other travellers, and the peculiarities 
of these people were very often odd and amusing. 

You all remember that wherever we went it seemed impossible 
to get rid of memorials of the ancient Romans, long dead and gone. 
But we could not fail to notice that it was equally impossible to 
get rid of the modern English and Americans, who, very much 
alive, are to be found wherever we go. These two nations are 
great explorers and travellers ; if there is anything worth seeing in 
any part of the world, they wish to go there and see it. There are 
now so many Anglo-Saxon tourists on the continent of Europe that 
it has become necessary in all good hotels to have some person who 
can speak English, and it is only in places which are seldom visited 
that we can find no one to whom we can talk in our native tongue. 
A German, Italian, or French waiter, who can speak English, 
finds it much easier to obtain employment at good wages than 
those who know only their own language ; and many Continental 
waiters and barbers go to London, and serve there without pay, 
for the sake of becoming acquainted with the English language. 

French used to be, and is still, the language most general in 



THE PEOPLE WE MEET. 2 2/ 

Europe, and one who speaks it readily can travel almost anywhere, 
and make himself understood ; but in many parts of Europe English 
is now so generally taught in the schools, that it will not be long 
before our language will be as useful to travellers as the French, 

Although the English and we ourselves both speak the same 
tongue, we do not speak it in the same way. An American in 
London can seldom say five words before the English people who 
may hear him will know that he came from across the Atlantic ; 
and we, on our part, seldom mistake an Englishman for our coun- 
tryman. It is in the tones of the voice and the methods of pro- 
nunciation that the differences exist, and when we first hear Eng- 
lish people talking, and when they first hear us, there is often, I 
am sorry to say, a little inclination on each side to indulge in ridi- 
cule ; but, if there were no other reason for refraining from such 
impoliteness, we should do so because it stamps us as ignorant 
people who have not travelled much. 

Both Americans and English, like all patriotic people, believe 
their respective countries to be the best in the world, and many of 
them consider it necessary, when they are travelling, to show this. 
Persons like these, however, be they Americans or English, do not 
belong to the better class of travellers. The more we travel, and 
the more we see of other nations, the better we become acquainted 
with their merits and virtues. Their oddities and their faults 
naturally are the first things which strike our attention ; but, if we 
have seen nothing but these, it is a proof, either that we have not 
travelled enough, or that we are not qualified to travel with advan- 
tage. The more the right kind of an American journeys, the more 
he is likely to be satisfied that he is an American ; but the better 
he becomes acquainted with other nations, and learns not only to 
avoid their faults but to imitate their virtues, the greater advantage 
is he to his own country. 



228 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

Next to our own fellow-countrymen, I think we shall like the 
English better than any other travellers we meet. Most of us 
may remember that if our forefathers had not chosen to emi- 
grate to America we should now be English people ourselves ; 
and, aside from any feeling of kinship, the English travellers we 
meet, and in whose company we may be thrown, are likely, after 
we become acquainted with them, to prove very good-natured and 
pleasant people. As a rule, they are very well educated, and 
speak French fluently, and often German ; but in almost every 
case we shall find them lamentably ignorant about America. We 
who have studied at school the geography and history of England, 
and know just how that country is bounded, and what are its prin- 
cipal rivers and towns, besides a great deal about its peculiar 
manners and customs, are naturally so surprised to find that these 
well-educated English people know so little about America, that 
we may be excused for supposing that in English schools there are 
classes where ignorance of America is taught to the pupils. An 
English lady who had travelled over the greater part of Europe 
said she had a great desire to come to America, and her principal 
object in doing so was to shoot Niagara. I rather opened my eyes 
at this, and said that I thought she must refer to the celebrated 
trip down the rapids of the St. Lawrence ; but she was very posi- 
tive on the subject, and said she meant Niagara, and nothing else : 
she had understood that they did it in a steamboat, and she knew 
she should enjoy the sensation. 

A well-educated middle-aged gentleman told me that the reason 
our civil war lasted so long was that we had no military men in our 
country, and that a war carried on entirely by civilians could not 
proceed very rapidly. If any of you have ever seen an English 
atlas you will understand why it is difficult to get from it a good 
idea of America. We shall find, in such an atlas, full and complete 



THE PEOPLE WE MEET. 229 

maps of every European country and principality, a whole page 
being sometimes given to an island, or to a colony in Asia and 
Africa ; but the entire United States, with sometimes the whole 
of North America besides, is crowded into a single map. Some 
of these are so small that the New England States are not large 
enough to contain their names, and are designated by figures which 
refer to the names printed in an open part of the Atlantic Ocean. 
No wonder that the people who use these maps have a limited idea 
of our country. 

But it is not only English people who appear to know very 
little about America. A German countess once asked me if we had 
any theatres in New York ; and when I told her that there were 
not only a great many theatres in that city, but that it possessed 
two grand opera-houses at which, at that time, two of the leading 
prima donnas of the world were singing on the same nights, she 
was a little surprised. It is quite common in various parts of the 
Continent to hear people speak of the late war between North and 
South America. They knew that the war was between the North 
and the South, and, as it was in America, the mistake is natural 
enough to people who have studied only European geography. 

But, on the other hand, we meet with many travellers, especially 
English, who, if they do not know much about our country, are 
very kindly and sociable, and glad to talk about American things 
and people ; and, as travel is greatly increasing across the Atlantic 
Ocean, it will not be long before the people of the two continents 
learn to know each other better. 

Some of the Americans who visit Europe are such odd person- 
ages that it is not to be wondered at if they give the people they 
meet a queer idea of our nation. Some of these are very fond of 
boasting that they come from a part of our country where currants 
are as large as grapes, grapes as big as plums, plums the size of 



230 



PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 



peaches, peaches Hke melons, melons as big as great clothes-baskets, 
and other things to match. Others complain if they cannot have 
ice-water and griddle-cakes in every European city they visit ; 
while others again are continually growling and grumbling because 
waiters and drivers expect small fees, not considering that at home 
they not only pay very much more at hotels, and for carriage hire, 
but sometimes are expected to give fees which are ten times as 
much as the poor people of Europe are accustomed to receive. I 
once saw an American girl, whose parents had become very rich 
since her education had been finished, who was 
^— ~-[^ walking through the galleries of the Louvre. 
She had been looking at some pictures by 
Rubens, all of which represented the Virgin 
Mary, and turning to a companion she said: 
" I do believe this painter must have been a 
Catholic ! " 

But such Americans are not true represen- 
tatives of their country, and it is very certain 
that Europe contains no more delightful peo- 
ple than many of our countrymen and coun- 
trywomen with whom we become acquainted 
abroad. 

The English people, whom we may visit at 
their homes, are very kindly and hospitable, and give us a welcome 
as strong and honest as they are themselves. Shopkeepers, and 
tradesmen of all sorts, are very civil and obliging. The officials on 
the English railways are peculiarly pleasing to Americans, who 
contrast their agreeable and efficient way of taking care of travel- 
lers with the manners and customs of many of our railroad clerks 
and employees. 

In France, the servants, shopkeepers, washer- women, and nearly 




AN ENGLISH RAILWAY 
OFFICIAL. 



THE PEOPLE WE MEET. 



231 



everybody who may serve us for money will be found to do 
what they have to do in a very kindly and obliging way. It is a 
pleasure to be served by such neat maids as we find in hotels and 
" pensions," or boarding-houses ; and the women who wait on us 
in the shops always greet us pleasantly, and show a kindly interest 
in helping us to select what we want. Of course this may be 
attributed to a desire to sell as much as possible, but this is a 
very proper desire for people in business ; and if they endeavor in 
this civil way to induce one to buy, it is far better than the rude 
and importunate manner of shopkeepers in some other parts of the 
world. There are places, particularly in Paris, where strangers 
will be dreadfully cheated if they 
make purchases without under- 
standing their value, but people 
who spend their money without 
knowing what they are about 
must expect that. 

French servants, as well as 
those of Italy, Switzerland, and 
some other countries, always 
salute us pleasantly when they 
enter our room, and are often 
intelligent, and one may be a 
little sociable with them with- 
out fearing that they will pre- 
sume upon it ; they are always 
ready to give us any information that they can, and if they can 
speak even a little English, they are quick to let us know it. 
Sometimes their courteous manners and expressions amuse us, as 
when a French dressmaker said to a lady who had expressed satis- 
faction with her work : "■ Ah, madame, the skies smile when the 




FRENCH BONNES (NURSES) AND THEIR CHARGES. 



232 



PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 



gown pleases !" One of the most polite and well-bred personages 
with whom I ever had conversation kept a little shop in the Latin 
Quarter of Paris. She was a middle-aged woman, with sunburned 
face and coarse hands, and wore a blue cotton gown and a plain 
cap. I frequently went into her shop, and though I often bought 
nothing more than a two-cent box of matches, she always welcomed 
me as cordially and courteousl}^ as if she were receiving me in a 

fine salon ; and if she had not what I wanted, 
would put herself to trouble to tell me where 
I could get it ; and, when I went away, bade 
me good-by as if I were a friend of her family 
whom she hoped to see again. 

It is particularly noticeable in Continental 
shopkeepers, and persons of that class, that, 
although they are very civil, it is seldom that 
we meet with the servility and obsequiousness 
which is somewhat common among the Lon- 
don tradespeople. It will be found, also, that 
although the English servants are generally 
most admirably trained and efficient, it is not 
so advisable to speak to them as freely as 
we do to persons in like positions on the Con- 
tinent, for the British waiters or maids are apt 
to lose respect for the person who is inclined 
- to be in any degree sociable with them. 

The French people, especially the middle 
'^^ and lower classes, have strong family ties ; and 
in the country, when the sons and daughters 
marry, they generally remain in the old home, where the father or 
grandfather is head of the house as long as he lives. It is very 
pleasant to see the old grandmothers in the public parks and 




A FRENCH POLICEMAN. 



THE PEOPLE WE MEET. 233 

gardens, busily knitting, and taking care of the little grandchildren 
who play about them. The French people have faults enough, but 
many of these, if the traveller does not look for them, are not apt 
to trouble him. 

In Italy, as well as in France, we often find a pleasant disposi- 
tion to offer service, even if it is not directly paid for. I was once 
in a city of northern Italy, where I needed some articles of cloth- 
ing. Having just arrived I was entirely unacquainted with the 
place, and inquired of a clerk at a forwarding or express office, 
where I had some business, the address of a good shop where I 
could buy what I wanted. He thereupon put on his hat and said 
he would go with me to one. I did not wish him to put himself to 
so much trouble, but he insisted that as I did not know the city it 
would be much better for him to accompany me. He took me to 
the best place in town, helped me in my selection, made sugges- 
tions to the shopkeeper, and when I had finished my business, 
offered to go with me to buy anything else I might want. It is 
possible that he may have been paid for bringing purchasers to 
this shop, but the price I paid for what I bought was so small that 
there could not have been much profit to anybody, and I do not 
believe that the large and wealthy firm by whom this young man 
was employed would allow one of their clerks to go out in this 
way merely to give him a chance to make a little money. Let any 
stranger in one of our cities enter an express ofifice and try to get 
one of the clerks to go with him to a tailor's store and help him to 
select a suit of clothes, and when he has made known his desire, 
let him wait and see what happens next. 

The Italians of the working-class are generally very industri- 
ous ; for the poor are very poor indeed, and they have to work 
hard to live. Even in Naples, where idleness and beggary used 
to be so common, the people have very much improved of late 



234 



PERSONALLY CONDUCTED, 



years. Italian beggars, however, are very persistent, and stick to 
a stranger like a bur, until they get something. The easiest way 
of ridding ourselves of them is to lay in a supply of small copper 
coins (they have coins here which are equal in value to a fifth of a 
cent, although these are not often met with, except among the 
very poor), and when a beggar receives anything he usually will 
go. This is a sort of toll one has to pay on the roads about some 
of the cities of Italy, and a stranger must generally pay it, or be 
very much annoyed. Sometimes a miserable old beggar with a 
broken back, one blind eye, one arm gone and the other one with- 
ered, and with, apparently, only half a leg, bounds in some miracu- 
lous manner beside a carriage for a quarter of a mile or so, until 
some one throws him a copper. Then he stops, his back straight- 
ens itself, one arm comes back 
to him and the other regains 
its power, his legs drop out to 
their natural length, and he 
walks slowly back to his post 
by the roadside, where, the mo- 
ment he sees another carriage 
approaching, all his Infirmities 
again seize upon him. Chil- 
dren are very annoying as beg- 
gars, especially in the south of 
Italy ; for half a dozen of them 
will sometimes cluster around 
a stranger, imploring him to 
An artist travelling in Italy had a curious 
way of ridding himself of these youngsters. He carried a toy 
watch which was a little out of order, and the hands of which, 
when it was wound up, would go round with a buzz, until it ran 




/^f^ 



ITALIAN BEGGARS. 



give them something. 



THE PEOPLE WE MEET. 



235 




FOLLOWING THE CARRIAGE. 



down. He would fix this in one eye like an eye-glass, and turn 

fiercely upon the importunate youngsters. The sight of this 

revolving and buzzing eye scared the little rascals, and they 

fled in every direction. 

They thought it was the I 

** evil eye," of which they 

are very much afraid. 

There is not much 
begging in and about 
Rome. Even the poor- 
est people seem too dig- 
nified for that sort of 
thing. We shall meet 
on the street, however, men, women, and children who offer all 
sorts of things to us for sale, and if we buy any of these articles, 
we must be careful or we may pay too much for them. Even in 
respectable shops, Italians generally ask strangers more for their 
goods than they are worth, and it is necessary to bargain a good 
deal if we want to get things at proper prices. As a rule, pur- 
chases can be made at a very moderate rate in Italy if we know 
how to buy. 

It is easy to see that Italy is a country of art, not only in her 
pictures, statues, and architecture, but in the costumes and man- 
ners of the people. They are very fond of bright colors and pretty 
effects, and even when they hang up tomatoes and cabbages in 
front of a shop, they arrange them as tastefully as if they were 
decorating a little stage for an exhibition. 

In Switzerland we see this same disposition to arrange common 
things in a tasteful and orderly way ; and although the Swiss are 
not so artistic as the Italians, and do not care so much for color, 
we sometimes find the winter's wood built up into the shape of 



236 



PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 



a little dome or pagoda, and even the smallest piles are arranged 
as symmetrically and evenly as if they were never to be moved. 
The ears of corn, which we often see hung in a row on the fronts 
of houses, are carefully arranged with regard to their size, and hang 
in as regular order as if they were files of well-drilled soldiers. 

The Swiss cottages, although they are much 
more elaborately decorated with carvings 
and inscriptions than those of the poor peo- 
ple in any other country, would not be pleas- 
ant places for any of us to occupy. The 
cows and the people live too close together. 
In some of the richest parts of the country, 
the barn, the stables, and the dwelling-house 
are all under one roof. 

In our various travels we shall doubt- 
less meet with a great many Russians, and, 
as a rule, we shall find them very intelligent 
people. I once met a Russian gentleman 
who not only spoke excellent English, but 
who knew more about American politics and 
our affairs in general than could be reason- 
ably expected of any one who had never 
seen our country. All Russians, however, 
do not understand us so well. A young 
lady from Siberia, who was very desirous of 
hearing about America, once asked me if it were true that peo- 
ple in our country could look for gold, and, when they had found 
it, could have it for their own. She could not understand why 
the Government did not require them to deliver it up. In 
Russia people cannot go about digging gold and silver in unin- 
habited mountains and plains any more than they can walk into 




AN ITALIAN MODEL WAITING 
FOR AN ENGAGEMENT. 



THE PEOPLE WE MEET. 237 

houses and take money and jewels ; and she thought our Govern- 
ment very foolish to allow anybody who chooses to go into the 
far West, and dig up the gold and silver that he may discover 
there. She had no idea of a country which truly belonged to its 
people. 

It is likely that in Switzerland we shall meet with a greater 
variety of travellers of different nations than in any other country. 
Some parts of this land of lake and mountain are very pleasant in 
the summer-time, while other portions are agreeable in the winter. 
The living here is also very good and cheap, and there are prob- 
ably more hotels and boarding-houses to the square mile than in 
any other country. At a hotel where I once stayed, there were 
'English, Irish, Scotch, Americans, Spaniards, Germans, Austrians, 
Russians, Swedes, Dutch, French, and a family from the Cape of 
Good Hope. I once met with a Parsee gentleman who had trav- 
elled a good deal in Europe, and had some idea of visiting America. 
He had heard that it was sometimes very cold here, and asked me 
how we heated our houses ; he particularly wanted to know what 
kind of stoves we used. When I told him that these were gener- 
ally intended for coal, but that in some places we used wood- 
stoves, he looked a little troubled, and after a moment's reflection 
asked me how we prevented the wood-stoves from burning up when 
a fire was made in them. 

Mistakes in regard to the meaning of expressions in English 
are quite common among Continental Europeans. A Swiss lady 
once asked me if American women took much interest in politics 
now that they were allowed to vote. " But they are not allowed 
to vote," said I. She looked surprised. " Not allowed to vote !" 
she exclaimed. " What, then, is the meaning of the Emancipation 
Act of which we have heard so much ? " When I assured her that 
this celebrated proclamation merely referred to negro slaves, and 



238 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

had nothing to do with white women, she said she thought this was 
a very queer country. 

When I was in Antwerp I met with a person who interested me 
very much. I was in the picture gallery, and had walked through 
a long line of rooms to the last apartment. There I saw upon 
an easel a picture nearly finished, which was a copy of a very 
fine painting upon the wall. I was attracted by the beauty of this 
copy, which seemed to me as well painted as the original close by 
it ; and I was just going away when I saw a tall, elderly man come 
into the room, and take his seat upon a stool in front of the easel. 
He wore large, loose slippers, and, to my astonishment, the first 
thing he did was to kick them off. Then I noticed that his stock- 
ings were cut off a little below the instep, leaving his toes exposed. 
Leaning back on his stool, he lifted his two long and active legs, 
and took up his palette and maul-stick with his left foot, putting 
his great toe through the hole in the palette, just as an ordinary 
artist would use his thumb. Then he took a brush between the 
first and second toes of his right foot, and touching it to the paint 
on the palette he began to work upon the painting on the easel. 
This artist had no arms, having been, born without them, and he 
had painted the beautiful picture on the easel with his toes. It 
was astonishing to see him leaning back with upraised legs, and 
putting the delicate lights and shades into the eyes of the* portrait 
on his canvas with a brush held between his toes. He has long' 
been known as a most skilful and successful painter in certain 
branches, and his beautiful work is not only interesting in itself, 
but it points a moral which we can each think out for ourselves. 

Wherever we go, in any of the galleries of Europe, we find art- 
ists copying the noted and famous pictures, sometimes two or three 
of them at work copying the same painting. In this way hundreds 
and thousands of copies, not only of the great works of the famous 



THE PEOPLE WE MEET. 



239 



painters, but of their smaller and less celebrated pictures, are given 
to the world ; and, in many cases, these copies are very good, and 
give a fair idea of the originals. There are artists, and some of 
them gray-headed, who never paint 
any original pictures, and make their 
entire living by copying paintings in 
the public galleries of Europe. This 
copying business, however, is often 
a great annoyance to visitors. Some- 
times a person takes a great deal of 
trouble to go to see a famous picture, 
and when he reaches the gallery he 
finds that an artist's easel and can- 
vas is set up before it in such a way 
that it is difficult for him to get a 
good view of it. A young copyist 
in the " Salon Carre," the room in 
which the finest pictures in the 
Louvre are collected, conceived the 
grand idea of painting the whole 
room, pictures, people, and all ; and 
the immense canvas which he set up 
acted as a drop-curtain, so far as a 
general view of this celebrated hall 
was concerned. In some galleries 
there are appointed times for the 
artists, and other times for the public. 

It is very natural that we should want to find out all about the 
people we meet while we are travelling in Europe, but we shall 
soon discover that many of them are equally desirous of getting 
information from us. This is because we are Americans, and in 




■^^-uj^ 



COPYING IN THE GALLERY. 



240 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. 

the countries we have visited — excepting, perhaps, France, where 
the people have but little desire to emigrate — ^America is consid- 
ered as a land, not very good to live in, perhaps, but as a great 
place to make money ; a country where the poorest person can 
go, accumulate wealth, and return to spend it in his own delight- 
ful native land. I remember a guide who took me through the 
ruins of Pompeii who was a very good instance of this tendency. 
He spoke good English, and was fond of conducting Americans 
through the dead little city. The desire of his heart was to go 
some day to America, and his mind was so full of this idea that he 
cared a great deal more to ask us about things over here than to 
tell us about Pompeii. It was rather funny to see him sit down in 
the Temple of Isis, and to hear him talk about General Grant and 
the poet Longfellow, and other famous Americans whom he had 
served ks guide. If some Europeans in a higher rank of life were 
as anxious to correctly inform themselves about things American as 
was this man, I think it would be well for them, and well for us. 



THE END. 



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" It will delight the hearts oiyovLng readers every- 
■where." — Boston Transcript, 

"An absurdly comical story about dwarfs, fairies 
and giants which will interest the children." — N. Y. 
Commercial Advertiser. 

' It would be difficult to find anything more dainty, 
fanciful and humorous than these tales of magic, 
fairies, dwarfs and giants. There is a vein of satire in 



them too which adult readers will enjoy. Numerous 
little sketches are scattered through the pages, and 
they point the author's meaning with great clever, 
ness." — M. Y. Herald. 

'Altogether, if children laugh over this book half as 
heartily as some grown people we know have laughed, 
they are, to be envied their good time." — Worcester 

Spy. 




PROCESSION OF THE WHITE ELEPHANT. 
• ♦ « 



" Both books are full of humor, fancy and instructive." — N. Y, Evejting Post, 



ROUNDABOUT RAMBLES IN LANDS OF FACT AND FICTION. 

WITH TWO HUNDRED ILLUSTRATIONS. ONE VOLUME, SQUARE 8vo, $1.50. 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

WITH NEARLY TWO HUNDRED ILLUSTRATIONS. ONE VOLUME, SQUARE 8vo, $1.50. 



" They are bright, instructive tales, devoid of harm 
and calculated to enliven many a winter evening and 
school holiday." — Springfield Republican, 

" The volumes are profusely illustrated and con- 
tain the most entertaining sketches in Mr. Stockton's 
most entertaining msinner." — Christian Union, 

" They are fully illustrated. Both are made up of 
E great number of sketches, adventures, incidents and 



wonderful histories told in a most interesting manner." 
— Chicago Inter-Ocean, 

" These two books, of similar appearance, with 
handsomely illuminated covers, contain incidents of 
travel and adventure, and are profusely illustrated. 
The matter is well selected and written in such a man- 
ner as to be readily understood by young people." — 
N, Y, Tim.es. 



SCR/BNt'R'S 'BOOKS FOTi THE YOUNG. 



Tre merry 

ADVENtaRES OF R0BIN HOOB. 

Of Great Renown in Nottinghamshire. 

WRITTEN AND ILLUSTRATED BY 

HOWARD PYLE. 



One volume, quarto, full embossed leather, ^4.^0; cloth, 

ybung-KlCHARD -PARTINGTON- comcth-to-reek-T^erry.RoBlN-H 



^^.00 




In this book, undoubtedly the most original and elaborate ever produced by an American 
artist, Mr. Pyle has gathered irom the old ballads and legends, und told with pencil and pen, ihe 
complete and consecutive story of Robin Hood and his merry men in their haunts in Sherwood 
forest. There is something thoroughly English and home-bred in these episodes in the life of 
the bold outlaw. His sunny, open-air nature, his matchless skill at archery, his generous dispo- 
sition, his love of fair play, and his ever-present courtesy to women, form a picture that has no 
counterpart in the folk-lore of any other people. 




" Mr. Pyle has taken the most characteristic of these old ballads, and has turned them into 
his own fresh, simple, idiomatic prose, and has illustrated them as no other man in America 
could have done." — JVew York Mail and Exj)ress. 



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